Meet the Boitanos
by Reyelene
Summary: Listening to other mice families talk about visiting their grandparents and cousins puts Fidget in a sorrowful mood because he feels he's the only one left. But with the help of Father Richards and Constable Smith, Fidget learns that not only does he have remaining blood relatives, but that they live in Liverpool!
1. Leaving for Liverpool

**Boitano is the Italian surname for "box-maker," a very simplistic meaning that implies a person of humble birth. It also happens to be a name from my mother's side of the family. I remember doing a family tree a long time ago in elementary school, but didn't have much appreciation of that topic until later on in college. As simple as this name sounds, it's actually pretty rare. Not many people have this surname these days. That is why I was more than proud to use this surname for Fidget's Italian relatives, which you are about to meet in this story. These Italian bats are Rupert Holloway's side of the family (his real name is actually Rudolfo Boitano). And Fidget, who struggles with connecting in a world where family is of great importance, takes a journey to Liverpool where his Italian family resides ... and he is forever ****_changed_**** ...**

**Chapter 1: ****_Leavin' for Liverpool_**

The clock downstairs chimed five o'clock at night ... _my_ wakin' time. But I didn't sleep good. I kept havin' dis dream; my parents were in it. I would see my mother's ghost standin' alone at da harbor. She looked out at da seas, da blue ribbon on her neck blew in da wind. How beautiful and sad she looked. Sometimes I caught sight of tears in her eyes of da blue moon. Whenever I ran out to touch her, she disappeared. Dhen I would see my father's ghost, flyin' above me. How proud and mature he looked as he flew, and how I mourned my _loss_ of flight. I would call to him, but dhen he would fly further away ... and disappear. Dis dream wasn't da only t'ing dat depressed me. I would walk to da Henry Poole & Co. tailor shop at 15 Savile Row to start work. We recently got a lot of middle-class customers who were fathers. Dhey requested us to make suits best suited for their trips to visit dheir family, in-laws, and cousins. When my shift was over, I overheard little kids shout with excitement because dheir cousins would come soon to visit dem. Cousins, in-laws, grandparents ... What da hell are dhose!? If only _I_ could relate ... I pretended not to let it bother me, but da same kids saw me walkin' home and started askin' me if _I_ had any cousins. I shook my head and continued to walk away, but dhose kids wouldn't stop pesterin' about it. _How could someone NOT have any cousins_ dhey would ask? Maybe _bat_ cousins didn't exist, dhey would say. "_Of course_bats have cousins," I replied. "Why wouldn't dhey?"

"Well then where _are_ they?"

As I continued to walk home, dhose kids would _follow_ me. I was some _freak_ just because I didn't have any cousins. I got so agitated dat I ran as fast as I could to lose dem. Luckily I had Albert and Anna waitin' for me. Albert took one good look at my face and asked what I was worried about. I pointed to da kids who were followin' me and told him what dhey were askin' me. He laughed and patted my shoulder. "Don't let those children scare you," he told me. "They mean no harm. They're only curious."

Somehow, dat made me feel worse. Dhey were curious, alright. A little _too_ curious! What if dhey never leave me alone!? And da followin' work nights at Henry Poole & Co., some customers even asked me when I would visit my grandparents and in-laws. I told dem I didn't have any to visit. Dhey didn't believe me at first, but I insisted dat I was tellin' da truth. When dhey realized dis, dheir response was "Oh, how _sad_." Unfortunately, dis news seemed to have spread t'roughout mousedom society. "How could someone _not_ have relatives!?" I heard ladies shout. "It's so ... _unnatural_." Da gossip was so overwhelmin', and I couldn't help but notice hundreds of eyes starin' at me as if I were a _walkin' doll_. I began shakin' so badly dat I had to run away for dear life until I reached da Collins' house. Anna saw da state I was in and demanded dat I tell her what was goin' on. I was able to tell her some, but I could only do it between breaths. I was practically crawlin' outta my _skin_! She suggested I should rest, but I insisted on standing up. I didn't want to be _babied_! I didn't enjoy it when my whole body shook either, but I found dat takin' deep breaths helped me to calm down. Anna once requested a doctor's visit to da house in regards to my anxiety attacks. He claimed dat I had suffered from neurosis brought on by da hardships and suppression I endured durin' my childhood _and_ into adulthood. I would be like dis for da rest of my life, he told me, and dhere was no cure for it. Dr. Hemingway, Niecy's doctor, gave me a more enlightenin' solution. Although I couldn't cure it, I could _fight_ it. Whenever dhose urges came, I was to t'ink of dhem as _tidal waves_ and myself as a _rock_. It actually _helped_! I could see why Niecy confided in his services.

But my neurosis was da least of my worries now. All I could t'ink about was da fact dat I had no cousins, grandparents, or any living blood relatives of my own ... and I _hated_ it! And I was about to start another evening again, facin' dat fact repeatedly and not bein' able to do a damn t'ing about it!

"You do realize you have _us_," I heard Anna's voice. She had opened da door a crack as I lept from my bed (dheir ceiling wasn't built for a bat to hang upside down). She _knew_ what was botherin' me and it made her very concerned. "And you have Father Richards as your mentor and Deniece as your companion. You shouldn't let those other mice get under your skin."

"I _know_!" I replied, a little more terse dhan I intended. "I can't help it dhough. It's just dat I ..." I lost my train of thought, so my voice trailed off.

"You wish you had living relatives," Anna completed my sentence for me.

I wasn't fond of someone talkin' _for_ me, but her reply was true so I nodded. "Even if dhose mice didn't say anythin' ... It's like somethin's _missin'_."

"Sounds to me like _guilt_, Finnius," said Anna. "And over something you have no control of."

Although she was right about my guilt, it still didn't provide da answer to dat _missin' part_. "I just _have_ to know, Mum. I have to know if I have any living relatives at all. If I don't ... I'll go _mad_."

Anna lowered her head sadly. I could tell she was tryin' hard to find da right words to tell me. _She_ suffered hardship during her youth too, for bein' barren. She understood what it felt like to have da only t'ing she ever wanted to be taken away by fate's cruelty. And like me, she was an only child. Her relatives were _dead_. Albert told me all about it, since Anna was painfully shy when it came to subjects that made her upset.

"Tonight is your studies with Father Richards," Anna replied, breakin' da silence. "Maybe he could help you with your situation."

My ears perked up at her suggestion. What a _good_ idea! Tonight's history lesson was supposed to be _Cultural Roots_ (Father Richards gave names for his lessons). It probably had somethin' to do with _family_. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a new kind of feelin' dat seemed to fill da missin' part inside of me. I rushed to da bathroom with dis new energy, changed clothes, and ran out da door (but not before givin' Anna a hug and kiss). Father Richards was just outside, waitin' for me. As we both hopped on board da hansom to his house on Piccadilly, I told da priest about my situation.

"You've overcome many obstacles since your release from Pentonville," said Father Richards. "It has turned you into a more mature man. But you still have much more to overcome, especially when coping with loss."

Father Richards always liked to speak in lectures, even when he wasn't givin' a lesson. Sometimes I found it very annoyin'! But still it beat da hell outta da ways of piracy. His lectures were one of da only t'ings left in dis world dat kept me _rooted_ to da ground. So I began to ask da question: "Is dhere a way I can find my relatives?"

Da mouse priest gave me surprised look. Dat meant either one of two t'ings: one, he knew da answer but didn't expect me to ask so soon, or two, I was askin' for somethin' _so_ impossible even _he_ wouldn't know da answer. "Do you know what you're asking, Fidget?"

"I'm askin' if dhere's a way I can find my relatives?" I repeated. "I wanna know if I have any blood relatives left."

Father Richards heaved a sigh. Why did I have da feelin' dat I wasn't gonna like da answer? "There _is_ a way," he began, "but it's not that easy."

"So I'll _work_ for it," I replied. "What have I got to lose?"

"It's not a guarantee that your blood relatives are still alive," said Father Richards. "If you get your hopes up too high, you might be disappointed if you find out you have no relatives."

"Not nearly as disappointed if I _don't_ try." I was practically at da point of beggin'. "_Please_ Father Richards? _Please_?"

Dhere was _no_ changin' my mind, and Father Richards knew it. Da priest fussed with his glasses, which was what he did when he came up with an idea. "We will not have the lesson at the house tonight."

Dat last response caught me off-guard. "_What_!?"

"We're not going to the house tonight. We're going to pay a little visit with Constable Smith."

I gulped. _Constable Smith_!? Dat guy would not take his eyes off me since I came out of Pentonville, _especially_ when he spotted me on my way to Niecy's house! I was never too friendly with da police anyway, but somethin' about Constable Smith made me extra nervous. He didn't trust me ... and I suppose for good reason. But why would Father Richards take me to see _him_!?

Da hansom didn't stop at Piccadilly. I had a sneaky feelin' Father Richards knew it wouldn't, even _before_ I told him about my situation. Instead, it stopped right in front of da police station ... my _least_ favorite place. Father Richards hopped off da hansom and gestured for me to do da same. As we both walked up da stairs, I began to sweat. A police mouse came t'rough double doors ... and spotted me first before Father Richards.

"We're here to see Constable Smith," Father Richards requested.

"'_E_ isn't in any trouble again, is 'e?"

I slapped my forehead embarrassingly. Obviously, da police mouse was talkin' about _me_. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was actually hopin' I would slip up so he would have a reason to nail me. Did I _always_ have to be reminded of my past!?

"Not at all, sir," said Father Richards. "We just need to ask him a few questions."

Da police mouse gestured his hand to da doors, a sign dat Constable Smith was still in his office. Father Richards and I continued our way to da doors, dat police mouse still wouldn't take his eyes off me. Luckily he didn't _follow_ us inside. I spotted Constable Smith just comin' outta his office; I tugged Father Richards's sleeve for his attention. As I had expected, Constable Smith looked less dhan pleased to see _me_. I gave Father Richards an uncomfortable look, pleadin' in my mind dat he would _not_ make me talk to da Constable. Da priest gave me a wide-eyed stare and swept his hand as his way of tellin' me to _move_. Father Richards would not let me off _dat_ easy. I slowly crept up to da Constable himself, who looked down at me with piercin' wide eyes. I had to t'ink fast for words since Constable Smith didn't like to be kept waitin'. "I ... wanna find my relatives."

"_What_?"

I started to sweat again. Did I say da right words? I repeated my sentence to him. "I wanna find my relatives."

"Is this a _jest_?" asked da constable.

I was startin' to get agitated. Luckily Father Richards spoke on my behalf. "Fidget wants to know if he has any living blood relatives. Do you have any records for anyone by the surname of _Holloway_?"

Constable Smith said nuthin', but he gestured us to come inside his office. I was awestruck by da shelves full of folders and papers. I imagined dhere were more inside dhose filin' drawers. Constable Smith gestured with his hand for me to sit on the stool in front of his desk. I didn't dare to test his patience, so I sat down immediately. He opened one of da filin' drawers and thumbed through the folders. Did cops ever get confused as to which drawers to look? I noticed da constable gave a nod of his head as he pulled out a thick folder and placed it on his desk. He sat down across from me as he opened it. I scratched da back of my head curiously. He couldn't have found somethin' _dat_ fast ... could he?

"Noh, let me see ..." I heard him utter under his breath. "There's a Rupert and a Charlotte Holloway. Both are deceased."

"Dhose were my parents," I said as I nodded. He gave me a stunned look, which told me dat he wasn't expectin' me to say anythin'. I gulped. Did I speak out of turn? But da constable continued to read.

"Rupert Holloway ... Birth name Rudolfo Boitano, son of Charles Holloway and Maria Boitano. Boitano has a sister, Giuliana Pirone-"

"Wait a minute!" I blurted. Constable Smith reacted with surprise to my outburst. Dis time, I didn't care if I spoke out of turn or not. "What did you say my father's birth name was?"

"Boitano," da constable replied. "It's an Italian surname, so this Charles Holloway is noht the real father."

My mouth hung open as I listened to what Constable Smith told me. I was _Italian_!?

"It also looks like yer noht the only one with a criminal past," he continued. "I'm showing a Fabrizio Boitano, son of Giuseppe and Apollonia Boitano, yer _second-cousin_. He was arrested for the attempted murder of his divorced wife, Angela Bennings. Noht to mention causin' public disturbances in taverns _beforehand_." Somehow, dat last comment offended me. I haven't even met dis second-cousin of mine yet, and da constable's already makin' fun of my relative!? I t'ink he noticed my reaction because he waved his hand up and down, which I assumed he was tellin' me to calm down. "I also see there's a Lucio Boitano residing in Sicily, Italy, a powerful leader of the Sicilian mob. But the rest of the Boitanos live in Liverpool."

My mind was ablaze as I looked at Father Richards. I _did_ have livin' relatives! And dhey lived in Liverpool!

I arrived home in an unusually talkative mood, surprisin' da Collins. Father Richards and I had spent _hours_ fishin' for more information on da Boitanos. Constable Smith only had information on who was deceased and who had criminal records, like dat of dis _Fabrizio_ character. We went to da library (imagine, _me_ in a _library_!). It turned out Maria Boitano was an Opera singer, and someone by da name of Annabella was enlisted in da British Navy. A _woman_ in da Navy!? Was dis a _joke_!? And Giuseppe Boitano, Fabrizio's father, was a college professor and inventor! I couldn't help but tell my foster parents everyt'ing I learned. I must've talked dheir ears off ... or talkin' too fast, because Anna kept askin' me to repeat everyt'ing I was sayin'_slowly_. But I couldn't keep my mouth shut! I t'ink I spotted Niecy on my way back home (she must've been out on errands), and she had a surprised look on her face when she saw me. I wouldn't have been surprised if she didn't even recognize me; I'm not a very optimistic guy and she _knows_ it. But tonight I was overcome with dis really good feelin' ... and it did _not_ come from a full moon!

"Well, I see you've been _enlightened_, my son," said Albert. Yeah, dat was da word! _Enlightened_! "I just have one question: what are you going to do now?"

Suddenly, my mind went blank. It was as if dat good feelin' I had came to an abrupt halt ... and it was replaced with worry. Why was it whenever I felt really good about anythin', somethin' I don't want to hear _always_ followed!?

"Albert is right, Finnius," Anna added. "It's good that you've acquired a lot of knowledge. But what is knowledge if it isn't put to good use?"

I began to frown. Dhey were right, of course. I hadn't even t'ought dat far, I was too enthused by what I learned. Dis was a reason _why_ I'm not an optimistic guy. Anytime I dreamed up somethin' _big_, someone _always_ had to _crush_ it! I slumped back in my chair, my ears dropped downward. "So you're sayin' I wasted my time, right?"

"No, not at all!" Anna blurted, lookin' and soundin' guilty for bein' honest with me. "What we're saying is that you should put that knowledge to _good use_."

My heart suddenly lept as her last comment took me by surprise. Was I _missin'_ somethin'?

"You looked so jealous when everyone _else_ was _visiting relatives_," Albert added. "And now you know you _have_ living relatives. Are you just going to leave it at that?"

Dat good feelin' came back, only dis time I felt a lump in my t'roat dat I couldn't speak. Of _course_ I wasn't gonna _leave it at dat_! I can't believe I was so _stupid_ to miss da point of my foster parents' advice!

"I don't _believe_ it!"

Shortly after tellin' my foster parents da good news, I decided to use da time I had left to tell Niecy too. It was midnight, da Collins went to bed an hour earlier. Luckily, Albert and Anna were gracious enough to understand my sleepin' patterns. Albert gave me da key to da house and reminded me not to make too much noise when I returned. When I visited her home on Addington Street, Niecy greeted me, wearing a glitterin' gold dress with danglin' gold earrin's. She had her butter-toned hair cut short just above her shoulders, and it looked thicker than usual. One side of her bangs covered her right eye and her side-strands were missin'. Niecy looked so ... _different_! But she still looked good. I assumed her hair change was part of a stage performance at da _Rat Trap_. I couldn't control myself because I jumped at her with a hug and kiss, takin' her by surprise. I half-expected her to slap me, but couldn't care less. She doesn't like to be taken by surprise, yet she likes to take _me_ by surprise. Surprisingly, she didn't slap me at all.

"So you have living relatives?!" said Niecy. "It's no _wonder_ you're in a good mood!"

"I t'ink I saw you earlier," I replied, "when I returned home with Father Richards."

Niecy nodded. "I was returning from _The Rat Trap_; I had to stop at the market for more food. My cupboards were nearly _bare_."

"I figured as much. Sorry for not saying hello sooner."

Niecy gave me her radiant smile. "I like seeing you happy, Finnius. It brings out the best in you."

I smiled in return, dhough I was _speechless_. If dhere was one t'ing Niecy was good at, it was makin' me smile ... outside _and_ inside. It took me a while before I could speak again. "Um, Niecy?"

"Yes, love?"

"Well, now dat I know where my relatives are ... I wanna _visit_ dhem."

Niecy's smile faded. She looked a little worried. It started to make me worry too. Did I say somethin' _wrong_? "Liverpool is _far_ from here," she said. "You'd have to take the train."

I nodded. "I know."

"But you don't know what they look like. Even if you go to Liverpool, how will you know them if you see them?"

I expected her to ask such questions as dat. Niecy was as logical as she was beautiful, somethin' I both admired and envied about her. "My grandmother is an Opera singer, Niecy. She sings at da Liverpool Playhouse ... and dhere's an Opera called _A Love Lost_; _she_ stars in it. Found dis all out at da library."

"I still say it may be harder than you think," said Niecy. "You don't know Liverpool that well ... and it could be dangerous."

Dat last part made me laugh. Did she forget dat I was a _pirate_? And she was tellin' _me_ about dangerous!? "Niecy I'll be _fine_," I answered with a wave of my hand.

"I should probably come _with_ you."

"_No_!" I blurted. Dat was da _last_ t'ing I wanted! "You've done enough for me, Niecy."

Dis caught her by surprise, and not a pleasant one. She never liked it when I said "no" to her, yet she always liked to tell _me_ "no." She insisted dat we should always stick together, no matter what. But _dis_ was somethin' I had to do on my own. I insisted on goin' alone; she got da idea.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," Niecy urged. "I don't want anything to ... happen to you."

Dat was my Niecy, always lookin' out for other people's well-bein'.

I spent da week plannin' my trip to Liverpool. Anna frequently checked on me to make sure I packed enough clothes, Albert gave me a map of Liverpool and some spendin' money. Father Richards gave me a couple of books to read during da train ride (it figures ... he _always_ liked to give me a lot of homework!). I bought my ticket in advance, since da ticket office closed after a certain hour. Niecy would be da one to escort me to da train station until it was time for me to get on board. Dat evening had come; Niecy was waitin' outside my door. I dragged my suitcase to da hansom dat waited for us. It would take us to da train station; Niecy and I hopped on board.

When we arrived at da train station, I was surprised by da crowd of mice dat were waitin'. I wasn't da _only_ one headin' to Liverpool. A bunch of mice _stared_ at us as Niecy and I approached. Now I was gettin' _nervous_. I was so excited about findin' out dat I had livin' relatives and wanted so much to see dhem. Now dat da night had finally come, I began to shake. Was I movin' way too fast? I took a few deep breaths to relax, but I couldn't sneak a t'ing past Niecy. She looked at me in da face with dhose green eyes of hers. Was she goin' to give me a _told you so_ kind of remark? Or try to get me to change my mind?

"Are you _sure_ you'll be alright on your own?" asked Niecy. "You're trembling so much."

"I'm just excited, dat's all," I lied. I'm sure Niecy knew dat I was lyin' (she was very good at dat). But I couldn't allow myself to cower away from an opportunity such as dis. And Niecy _knew_ it.

"It's quite an adventure, isn't it?" she said with a smile as she knelt to my height. "Especially when you're meeting your blood family for the _first_ time. I suppose I would be _just_ as nervous too." I suddenly stopped tremblin'. What was it about Niecy's words dat had dat kind of power? Whether she sang or talked to me, it was like da world around me became a blur; I'd forget what I was nervous about. "I'm sure your family will welcome you with open arms," she continued. "No doubt you'll be safe with them."

We wrapped ourselves in each other's wings. It was hard for me to let go, and I imagined it was da same for her. "I'll stay outta trouble, Niecy. I promise ..."

Da train whistle sounded, which meant it was time for me to leave. I hurried inside, but not before givin' Niecy one last kiss on her cheek. As da slidin' doors closed behind me, I looked back to see her turn around and fly away. Now _I_ was flyin' away, da journey as my new set of wings.


	2. La voce d'Italia herself!

**Boitano is the Italian surname for "box-maker," a very simplistic meaning that implies a person of humble birth. It also happens to be a name from my mother's side of the family. I remember doing a family tree a long time ago in elementary school, but didn't have much appreciation of that topic until later on. As simple as this name sounds, it's actually pretty rare. Not many people have this surname in today's day and age. That is why I was more than proud to use this surname for Fidget's Italian relatives, which you are about to meet in this story. These Italian bats are Rupert Holloway's side of the family (his real name is actually Rudolfo Boitano). And Fidget, who struggles with connecting in a world where family is of great importance, takes a journey to Liverpool where his Italian family resides ... and he is forever ****_changed_**** ...**

**Chapter 2: ****_La voce d'Italia ... herself_**

As I sat in da back row by myself (which I preferred anyway), I tried to imagine what my grandmother would look like. Was she fat? I always t'ought Opera singers were fat. Or maybe not? Unlike mice who ranged from skinny to fat or tall to short, bats were usually small and skinny. It was very rare for a bat to be fat or tall. I say dis because we didn't have all da privileges mice had. We struggled for food, and what food we ate was very limited. Niecy was one of da exceptions because she was lucky to be adopted by foster parents. She was tall and slim, dhough she did have a little meat on her bones. Of course I wouldn't _dare_ tell her dat. She'd probably _kill_ me! But dat's what made her so _beautiful_! Niecy was part flyin' fox, makin' her beauty as exotic as her personality.

But I wondered what kind of bat my grandmother would be? Da information I found said she was an Opera singer. Did she have da same kind of power Niecy does? Or would it be plain _scary_? Back in London, I did overhear a couple mice children say dhey _hated_ dheir grandmothers. Grandmothers _smelled_ ... like all _old_ people, I heard dhem say. Albert and Anna were old people, dhey had a certain scent but nuthin' dat bothered me. I couldn't help but t'ink of dat night when Anna finally _accepted_ me as her adopted son. How she used to make me feel so stupid when I did chores, like I couldn't do _anythin'_ right. But when she accepted me, called me by my real name ... I just fell to my knees and cried. I must've looked and sounded like such a _woman_, it was embarrassin'! But Anna was so good to me, after all I had done. She was hard on me because she _cared_. It was a test, and I passed it. Would I be put t'rough a test with my grandmother too?

After four hours, da train finally stopped, t'ank God I finally got to walk again! My legs felt so stiff, I needed to stretch dhem. But at last, I was in Liverpool. I was glad none of da mice passengers bothered me. I t'ink it was because dhey feared me still. Father Richards told me once dat citizens would still see me as a criminal (I learned to deal with it). I also knew dat Liverpool shared da same amount of crime as London. Hopefully my grandmother and da rest of da Boitanos didn't live in a dangerous place. And speakin' of which, I had to find da Liverpool Playhouse. I figured dat if tonight wasn't rehearsal for her Opera, at least someone would know where she _lived_. It was located on 13 Hope Street, I got off at Lime Station. How I cursed da day my wing was crippled. It would be a very far walk, and I wasn't sure which hansoms would go in dat direction. I didn't feel comfortable askin' for directions either (I'm generally not trustful of strangers). So I began to walk with both eyes and ears opened. Dhen I heard a sound ... it came from above. It sounded like ... _flappin' wings_. I lifted my head skyward. It looked like ... yes it _was_! It was another bat! I watched as dis one landed on da ground. It wasn't a graceful landin'. As soon as her feet touched da sidewalk, she slid and fell on her bum. I could hear her whinin' and complainin', probably cursin' herself for her clumsy landin'. At least dat's what I t'ought. She was babblin' some words I couldn't really understand. Somethin' dat sounded like dis: "_PerchÃ© non posso farlo giusto_!?" Da lady bat had long hair, a color between brown and dark gray tied in a bun with two short curly side-strands by each ear. She wore a simple dress and an apron, which made her look like some kind of_housemaid_. I watched from afar as she dusted da hem of her dress with her webbed hands. Her face was in da shadows. It wasn't until she almost looked in my direction dat I saw a small mouth, an upturned nose, and two pairs of bright yellow eyes surrounded by red rings, like ... _mine_!? Was_she_ one of my relatives?! Without t'inkin', I began to approach her. She suddenly noticed I was dhere. Her black pupils narrowed, a sign dat she was scared. She turned away as if to run, but slipped on her foot and fell flat on her face. _Ouch!_ I rushed to her side to see if she was alright. She lifted da upper half of her body with her hands. She wasn't hurt, but she had an embarrassed look on her face. I suddenly heard voices from a few mice passin' by.

"If it isn't Clumsy Carolina, taking another spill once again!"

Carolina ... I _knew_ dat name! How did I know!?

"And look at that bat stranger who looks like her! Wonder if _he's_ clumsy too!"

Dat comment made me mad. I just arrived here in Liverpool, and already I'm makin' enemies!? Will it _never_ end!? Fortunately, dhose mice didn't stick around. Dhey continued to walk away, laughin'. I heard da pantin' of breath and knew dat it was comin' from da lady bat. Once again, she stared at me with fear on her face and her body shook ... da same way mine did whenever _I_ was nervous. I watched as she struggled to stand on her feet so she could run away. But dhen she fell down _again_!

"I'm not gonna hurt you!" I blurted as I rested my hand on her shoulders. She let out a short, tiny scream at my touch. I whispered in her ear to take a deep breath; it didn't look like she understood me because she gave me a confused look. I repeated my whisper, placed my left hand on my chest, and breathed t'rough my nose to show her. She did nuthin' at first, dhen she began to mimic what I was doin'. I saw her close her eyes as she breathed; she seemed more relaxed now. I held both of her hands in mine to help her stand up. She didn't fall down _dis_ time. Da lady bat looked me in da eyes with curiosity, just before a tiny smile flickered at da corners of her mouth.

"You ... _kind_ boy ..."

As I listened to her, I noticed she had an unusually soft voice ... almost like a _child_ (she must've been at _least_ forty-years-old). And she had some kind of accent, da way she stressed da word _kind_.

"Mi dispiace ..." she continued, with da motion of her hands. "I ... not _know_ you ... Who you?"

"I'm ... _Finnius_." I replied slowly on purpose, so she could understand me. I liked da sound of her voice, but her English was bad. "Finnius Holloway."

Da lady bat blinked her eyes in surprise. "_Holloway_?! Like eh ... Charles Holloway?!"

Now _I_ was da one who was surprised. How did _she_ know Charles Holloway?! "Charles Holloway is my grandfather!" I blurted. "You know him!?"

Da lady bat nodded. "'E's my _uncle_. My name is Carolina."

Dhen I remembered somethin'! I knew who dis lady was! "Are you Carolina _Boitano_!?"

"_Si, si_!" she replied, nodding her head excitedly.

"I'm lookin' for Maria Boitano," I told her. "At da Liverpool Playhouse."

"Ah, si! Come, follow me!"

Carolina and I had arrived at da Liverpool Playhouse by hansom. She originally wanted to fly, until I told her dat I couldn't fly. Luckily, she knew which hansom would take us dhere. Gettin' to know Carolina Boitano seemed like a _chore_. She didn't speak English too well, I didn't know Italian. And she wasn't much of a talker either way. Whenever I asked a question about my other relatives, she would always pause with a look of fear on her face as if she was _hidin'_ somethin'. She said very few words and paused in-between dhem; I had very little to go by. I t'ink I scared her a little when she noticed how agitated I was. It was like talkin' to an infant and dis was a woman old enough to be my _mother_! Da only t'ing dat prevented me from losin' my temper was da fact dat _I_ was no better. Dat was what Father Richards and my foster parents were _helpin'_ me with. Who was I to judge my second-cousin? And aside from her obvious faults, she seemed like a really nice lady who was helpful to find a hansom to da Liverpool Playhouse so we wouldn't have to go for a _long_ walk. Dherefore, I forced myself to be patient with Carolina.

We sat in da second row of seats. Maria Boitano was supposed to be rehearsin' for her Opera. Da playwright and a couple other mice sat in front of us. We waited with anticipation for Maria's arrival. I heard da playwright call her name, indicatin' dat dis moment was her cue. At last, da Opera singer herself approached da stage ... and I was mesmerized! Da bat dat entered was da most beautiful _old_ lady I ever saw! Her short, wavy silvery hair was t'ick and parted in bundles, da kind a man could run his fingers t'rough. Her bat's ears were wide and shaped like tea leaves, her face was unusually young lookin', with da exception of her forehead and da corners of her _eyes_. Oh my God, dhose _eyes_! Dhey were an _unusual_ mix of jade and bright yellow! I never t'ought anyone could have eyes like _dat_! Dhey were so gorgeous! Da only t'ings dat confused me were da green dress and black-and-white shoes dat she wore. _She_ was Italian, but her dress and shoes looked German-style. Maybe it was just a costume for her play?

Da mouse playwright motioned his hand in Maria's direction, which meant dat was her cue to start singing. And if I wasn't mesmerized enough by her good looks, I was even more so when I heard her voice:

_"E cosi  
A quel ciare no e  
Cosi ... l'omo mio  
Davante a Dio  
E cosi ... sara sanre  
Cosi ..."_

Like my Niecy back at home, Maria's voice was a blend of somethin' dat was both scary and beautiful. It was as if all my worries in da back of my head were touched ... and melted into water. Unlike Niecy's voice however, Maria's wasn't nearly as high-pitched. I t'ink musical geniuses called it contralto (I wasn't a musical genius-I just know what I _liked_)? I watched as she spread her sleeve-covered wings in articulation with da words she sang. Of course, I couldn't understand what da hell she was sayin'; somehow I had da feelin' dat it had to do with somethin' sad. She didn't smile at all; I saw thin streaks of tears fall down her cheeks. Was da song about someone who died?

_"Era un pupazzo,  
E desui domo era piu di  
tutti vai ...  
Tutti vai ... Si ...  
E l'omo mio,  
Soltanto a mio  
E l'omo mio ...  
Mio ..."_

I couldn't help myself. I rose from my chair and clapped my hands ... dhen I kinda regretted it because everyone was starin' at me. But it caught da attention of Maria Boitano herself. She gave me a curious look, her expression similar to Carolina's. Her teal-gold eyes widened, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. Was she frightened of me? Da next t'ing I heard startled me. "Imposible! E mio figlio, Rudolfo!? Egli Ã¨ tornato dai morti!"

_What_!? I t'ought to myself. Da next t'ing I knew she ran down da stairs of da stage and came to an abrupt halt da moment she was inches away from_me_! She cupped her hands against my cheeks and squeezed dhem, still babblin' excitedly in her native tongue. I raised both my hands and waved dhem frantically to get her to calm down. She suddenly paused mid-sentence, but I don't t'ink it was because she understood me. My grandmother released my face from her grip and stood back to observe me. "Mi dispiace, giovanotto." She cupped her hands over her face in embarrassment. "Ho pensato che lei fosse mio figlio."

"Lady, I can't _understand_ you!" I told her, half chucklin' out of nervousness.

"Eh, forgiveh me, leetle boy." She could speak English!? Oh, what a _miracle_! She came closer to me once again. "I sorry I scare you. You look likeh my son, Rudolfo ... but eh, _shorter_."

"I _know_," I nodded, lowerin' my head. I couldn't blame her for mistakin' me for my real Dad. I was born with his features, except he had a black mustache. And he was _tall_, which was rare for a bat!

"Where you come from, boy?" Maria continued. "How you get my son's face?"

I had a lump in my t'roat. I was hopin' to figure out some way of tellin' her _before_ she would ask. But her question was so direct dat it begged for an answer. "Dat's because ... I'm your _grandson_."

Maria blinked her eyes in surprise. But I don't t'ink she believed me, as I feared. She crossed her sleeved wings and gave me a cross look. "You mock an _old_eh woman, boy. Is _not_ good."

"I know you don't believe me," I answered. "But it's true. Ask anythin'!"

"What's your name, boy?" she asked, her arms still crossed.

"I'm Finnius. Finnius Holloway."

"_Fee-nyus_?" she replied. "Fee-nyus ees _dead_, boy. He disappeared fifteen years ago."

"Yes, because I hit my head." I lowered my head, and spread da fur in da back of my skull to show Maria my permanent scar. I lifted my head to meet her gaze. Her mouth gaped as she stood back and observed me. Dhose same tears I saw when she sang came back once again. I didn't know what I did ... but dat look in her eyes ... she _knew_. She stepped closer to me and cupped my face with her hands.

"Eet _ees_ you," Maria uttered in a whisper. "I should have _known_." I was pulled closer to her before I could speak. Her sleeved wings enfolded me; I couldn't help but do da same. I quivered from da inside out as I held my grandmother as she wept. Da sound of her voice must've moved me to get emotional too, because my vision became blurry. "My _beautiful_ grandson ... You're _alive_ ..." My _beautiful_ grandmother ... I've finally _found_ you ...

I hopped aboard da hansom with Carolina and my grandmother. Maria begged me to fill her in on what had happened to me since I was eight. Dis wasn't easy for me, as usual. I half-expected her to be shocked after I told her I was a pirate and an employee to Professor Ratigan. She was _half_surprised because she told me a little bit about her first husband, Lucio Boitano (my grandfather). He had a drinking problem, and would get physical with Maria. My father was only a little kid (barely two years old). Maria and her family fled Italy and arrived in England. Charles Holloway, my step-grandfather, took dhem in. He taught dhem how to speak English, especially Carolina who struggled with speakin', even in her own language. Dhey were distrustful of him at first because dhey were still afraid of da plight of da Sicilian mob back in Italy. Charles convinced his adopted parents to get my father's name legally changed from Rudolfo to Rupert so he would be protected from oppression in English society (English bats suffered enough as it was without name changes). Charles and my father had been very close, goin' on fishin' trips and inventin' clocks. My step-grandfather was a professional clock-maker, which greatly impressed Maria (anyt'ing creative always impressed my grandmother). Listenin' to Maria talk made me more impatient to meet da rest of my family. As for my own personal story, Maria's opinion of me did not change. She urged me to continue.

"Well ... I was t'rown out by Professor Ratigan. I fell in da Thames ... I t'ought I would drown for sure."

"How did you get out?" my grandmother asked.

"Someone came in and pulled me out," I continued. "Another bat."

"How did that bat know you were drowning?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I ... guess she was on her way home from work. And she happened to see me fall."

Maria held my hand in hers. "You are very _lucky_, child."

Lucky? I guess I was. Not every guy like me lived dis long to find his own relatives, alive and well. And aldhough I have only known my grandmother for an hour, I have already become attached to her. Maria Boitano was a likable woman. Aside from da fact she had a lovely voice, she was well-preserved for her age (did I mention most old ladies I knew were fat and ugly?). I was comfortable speakin' to her, and I was usually da guy who had trouble _speakin'_. Maria got to know me for who I was, includin' my dark past ... and I knew she accepted me for who _I_ was. Aldhough I wasn't sure I liked it when she called me _child_.

"Like Carolina say, you a _kind_ boy. You the only one who volunteer to help her ... and she ees very clumsy."

Carolina's ears lowered, a sign dat my grandmother's remark hurt her feelin's. "Why does she struggle?" I asked.

"Doctors say she has a brain malfunction," said Maria. "She been that way since she was a leetle girl. Everyone get annoyed with her very easily, because she's an old lady but closets herself like a _child_. But she has good heart ... and ees good cook."

While I understood da _annoyin'_ part, I knew Carolina was not to blame. She couldn't help da way she was. She did give me a shocked look when I told Maria I was a pirate. I almost feared dat she would be distant from me because of dat. I held her hand gently as my way of showin' her dat I would do her no harm. I assumed she believed me, especially when I was da one who helped her durin' her clumsy mishap. And Carolina looked young and incredibly cute for her age. If her clumsiness and speech weren't her troubles, I would bet she could win da hearts of mature men.

"Now her youngest seester, Annabella, ees the _opposite_!" said my grandmother. "She very courageous! First lady to have served een Breetish Navy!"

"How's dat possible!?" I wondered. "Wouldn't she have been kicked out?!"

Maria rolled her eyes passively as she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, _she_ managed to do it. She was tough leetle girl ... But eh, she injured her knee very bad. Kicked an enemy much bigger than her during _Arabi's Revolt_. She was clever and tough girl, but not very strong legs."

I could imagine where _dis_ was goin'. "So she's crippled?"

Maria nodded. "Kindeh like your peg-leg, but she uses crutch instead."

Suddenly, da hansom stopped. I was surprised to see a river not too far away. Many light posts stood in a row; we hopped off da hansom, Carolina slid on her heel and fell on her bum ... _again_! I helped her up. Maria tapped on my shoulder. "Thees ees Mersey Reever," she told me, before she pointed at a stone buildin'. "We fly _through_ window crack een _that_ place, then we go through small hole een ceiling. Our home ees een _there_."

So da Boitano residence was in a stone buildin' by da Mersey River? Generally, bats' homes were eidher in light posts or belfries, both locations from which bats were forced to flee because of humans. Mice's homes were always a part of a human shelter, and sometimes homes fashioned from leftover trash dat humans left. I followed my grandmother and Carolina to da window. I wondered if dey realized dat I couldn't fly? Dhen I saw Maria stand at da base and gestured at Carolina with her hands. Carolina flapped her wings and landed on Maria's shoulders (almost clumsily). I started to cringe, not because da idea of climbin' scared me (I've climbed before) but because I worried for my grandmother. I worried da weight of Carolina would've been too much for Maria's old shoulders. Even dhough she didn't seem to struggle too much, Grandma Maria was still an _old lady_. Carolina looked in my direction and extended her wings. "Come ..." I heard her say in her soft voice. I approached my grandmother from da side and extended my hands to Carolina. She pulled me upward with all her strength (which wasn't much since she was frail), I placed my foot in between Maria's arm. I could feel Carolina almost lose her balance, fortunately Maria had a firmer grip dhan I gave her credit for. Her webbed hands held Carolina's ankles tightly. Now I was face to face with Carolina, my hands fastened on her shoulders. With her webbed hands cupped, I struggled to lift my foot to dhem. I almost lost _my_ balance as I attempted to reach Carolina's shoulders. She grabbed my ankle and peg to keep me from fallin'. I quickly forced my hands in front of me as my body leaned toward da window sill. Dhere was a small crack in da glass; I forced myself upward with da strength of my arms. Liftin' my right leg to da sill before da other, I made it to da top. I was only inches from da crack when Carolina and Grandma Maria flew up.

"_Stai attento!_" I heard my grandmother say. I t'ink she was tellin' me to watch myself with da crack. It was big enough for me to slip t'rough, but da edges were sharp enough to hurt someone. I went inside with ease and stuck around to help my grandmother and Carolina t'rough.

"_Guardi!_" Carolina said. I noticed she was pointin' at a hole below da floor ... and I saw dhere was light. Dat must've been Grandma Maria's home! But why would dey live under a stone buildin'?

"_Siamo a casa, sorella!_" shouted my grandmother-what da hell was she sayin'!?

"_Siete in ritardo, Maria!_"

I saw another elderly lady bat emerge from da hole in da floor. Her looks were similar to Maria, but she wasn't nearly as pretty. She had a little more meat on her bones, which was a little unusual for a bat. She wasn't fat, more like medium-sized. And unlike Grandma Maria's face, which overflowed with happiness and warmth, dis lady's face was serious with suspicion. Dhen she began to notice me. I could feel beads of sweat in da back of my head. She looked at Maria and gestured her webbed hand in my direction. "_Chi Ã¨ questo ragazzo, Maria!_"

"_E mio nipote, sorella!_"

Damn, I wished dey wouldn't speak Italian in front of me! As if I wasn't sufferin' enough from nervousness! Dhen I felt a hand pull on my left arm. Da lady looked at me squarely in da face. "Who you, _boy_!?"

"F-F-Finnius," I muttered nervously.

"Basta, basta!" my grandmother interrupted. "He did no wrong, sister."

Aldhough my gaze was fixed on dis udher old lady, part of me was relieved dat Maria was speakin' English again. I guess my grandmother's words reach dis woman, because she let me go. It still didn't change da suspicious expression on her face.

"Forgive her, _caro_," my grandmother said as she patted my shoulder. "She ees Giuliana, my big sister. Giuliana, _si chiame Feenyus_."

Giuliana? Dhen dis woman was Giuliana Pirone! Dhere wasn't much information I recalled udher dhan she was a painter and had only one daughter, Linda. And it didn't look like she liked me much.

"Ees he thief!?" blurted Giuliana. "He looks like one!"

"He's a good boy, sister."

"I don't-eh trust him! I can't understand how you could bring him!"

Oh great! I haven't entered da Boitano's home yet, and I'm already makin' enemies! Grandma Maria continued to speak in my defense, but wasn't succeedin'. I decided it was time for me to speak.

"You wanna know if I'm a _thief_?" I began (Giuliana turned to face me dat time). "You're half right. I _was_ a thief ... and a murderer. You have good reason to be suspicious."

Giuliana slowly approached me and grabbed me by da shoulders. "Maria tells me you her grandson. How we know you're not lying?"

"Ask me somethin'?" I proposed. "Somethin' only your sister's grandson would know."

Maria slapped her big sister's arms away. "_Ti ho detto, basta!_ (turns to me) Don't be afraid of Giuliana, _caro_. She always acts thees way with strangers. She still thinks I'm a baby and only wishes to protect me."

"Is he our guest, _Zia_?"

Another bat emerged from da hole. Dis one was my height and had da same facial features as Carolina, except her hair was medium-brown, boy-short, and disheveled. Unlike my udher relatives, she did not have an Italian accent at all when she spoke English. I noticed some bandage on her right foot as she hobbled in my direction on crutches; I already knew who it was.

"The name is Annabella," she answered as she extended her hand to me. "You don't seem like the suspicious kind to me, even if you _were_ a pirate."

I felt comfort in knowin' dat someone else spoke English without an Italian accent. Not meanin' to say I didn't like da Italian accent, it sounded pretty (especially when my grandmother spoke). I was just glad dat one of my relatives spoke English with an English accent instead. Annabella's voice, like Carolina's, sounded younger dhan her actual age. But _her_ voice had an edge which made her sound more ... _tough_, like someone from da streets. It didn't surprise me much, since I did remember readin' dat she used to be in da British Navy. How she managed to get away with it I had yet to find out.

"_Zia_ Giuliana is not a bad woman," Annabella told me. "She just wants to make sure her baby sister doesn't repeat the mistake she made with her husband."

"Enough talk!" I heard Maria shout. "My grandson came all thees way to visit us, an we're just-eh standing around like light posts! We must-eh bring him inside. _Tutti andiamo_!"

I wasn't sure what dat last comment was, but I assumed she was tellin' everyone to come inside. I followed everyone into da hole and descended with anticipation.

I was overwhelmed with disbelief to what I saw. Everyt'ing was so ... _fancy_! Da parlor's walls were painted a light shade of peach and da floor was carpeted white with floral designs. Da sofa stood in da center while two small white bureaus leaned against da walls, opposite each udher. Each one had a white vase with flowers matchin' da carpet. Da next room my grandmother showed me was da dining room. Unlike da parlor, dheir dining room was darker with deep brown and crimson red. Da table was incredibly large, enough to fit ten people at dinnertime (I could tell dis was a house where a big family dwelled)! A golden chandelier hung on da ceiling just above da center. Two cupboards filled with china plates stood against da cream-colored wall opposite da end of da table. One could say dhose cupboards looked like guards of da table, da way guards outside Buckingham Palace stood. Suddenly my stomach growled with hunger. Was it close to dinnertime already?

"Is that you Maria?" I heard a voice say, just before da door opened.

"Charles, _just_ een time!" Maria responded. "Our grandson has come to visit us!"

"Grandson?! Impossible!"

Da bat called Charles was tall, like I remembered my father was. However, his fur was a medium-brown unlike da rest of my relatives' which were gray like mine. He had a funny lookin' face, with a thick white beard and mustache dat covered his mouth-if it weren't for da fact dat I _saw_ him talk, I would've t'ought he didn't have a mouth. He wore a pocket-watch in his green, plaid vest and stood with his head cocked on one side as he looked at me.

"Who _are_ you, and how _dare_ you impersonate my step-son!?"

I wasn't surprised dat he approached me with a suspicious look, as Giuliana did. I've become accustomed to it, as much as it annoyed me. What surprised me was da tone in Charles voice when he asked me dat question. It sounded as if he was _tryin'_ to be suspicious. It didn't intimidate me da way Giuliana's voice did, in fact it almost made me laugh. And he _claimed_ dat I was impersonatin' my father?! I covered my mouth, tryin' to suppress a smirk.

"You dare laugh at _me_, boy?!"

His face was a few inches from mine; now I couldn't stop myself from laughin'. Why was he _pretendin'_ to be suspicious!? He wasn't dat type, I could tell. His eyes were too innocent, and da way he cocked his bushy eyebrows to feign suspicion was too much!

"Thees boy ees our grandson, silly!" I heard my grandmother giggle. "He's Rudolfo's child, _Feenyus_."

"Finnius, you say?" Charles replied, shiftin' his gaze from me to Maria, dhen back at me. "Can you prove that?"

I was still gigglin', unable to meet his gaze. It wasn't until I felt his webbed hands touch my shoulders dat I was able to calm down. I uncovered my face and saw dat da look in his eyes changed dis time. A mixture of surprise and longin' stared back at me. I didn't know what I did, but it must've been somethin' dat convinced him I was his grandson. I've learned over time to read people's expressions, without dhem sayin' a word.

"You ... cover your face ... the same way Rupert did," I heard him say. "I remember ... he used to laugh like that when he was little ..."

"You must've been ... very close with my Dad," I replied, forgettin' his previous suspicious act entirely.

My step-grandfather knelt to my eye-level as he gazed at me. I could see da gleam of tears trickle down his face. He must've somehow heard about my father's gruesome demise, and didn't take it too well. "You look ... so much like him ..." he uttered in a quiverin' voice. "Your eyes, your face ..."

Charles folded his large wings around me before I could speak. As I hugged my step-grandfather, I could hear his sobs and I felt bad for him. I couldn't imagine losin' a child because I didn't have any. But I remembered bein' very close to my father, and how paralyzed with fright I was when I witnessed his brutal murder. My own father's life, taken away for no reason at all ... and da police did nuthin' about it, because my mother and I were_bats_. I'm sure my step-grandfather was practically _livid_ when he learned dat his child was taken away. Now dat I was here, I probably looked like my father, risen from da dead ... and it was probably too much for him to bear.

"Che cosa succede!?"

I heard another Italian voice, followed by da sound of scurryin' footsteps. Another one of my relatives, no doubt. I looked up past my step-grandfather's shoulder and spotted another tall bat come from da same door. He wore spectacles like Charles, but dis guy was definitely a relative by blood judgin' by da same color fur and eyes. Da moment he spotted me, he gently brushed Charles aside to get a better look at me. His eyes widened with surprise after he studied my face. "_Santa Maria_! Can it be!?"

From da sound of his response, I had a feelin' he already knew who I was. Charles introduced me to dis bat ... and referred to him by da name of Giuseppe, my great-uncle. Dis bat looked at me with curiosity ... until Carolina had a slip-of-tongue by mentioning dat I was a _pirate_. Great-uncle Giuseppe's mood changed from fascination to a mortified fear. "_Signore, abbi pietÃ _, not _another_ delinquent!" I heard him cry out. "Haven't I got enough troubles with my poor Fabrizio's blunder!?"

I winced with fear at da sound of his response. I remembered Constable Smith mentioned _another ex-criminal_ like myself, my second-cousin Fabrizio. And dis second-cousin of mine must've really screwed up for my great-uncle to react dat way. I raised my hands defensively as I watched him wave his wings erratically while complainin' in his Italian tongue. "P-please don't be angry with me," I pleaded, afraid he was going to strike me. Fortunately, he calmed down at da sound of my voice. "I don't know what Fabrizio did to you, but I promise I won't cause any trouble."

Giuseppe cocked a bushy eyebrow at me as he smoothed one side of his dark gray mustache with his webbed hand. "For _your_ sake boy, you had better not." Although he spoke softly, dhere was a tone of warnin' in his voice. He knelt to my level as he wagged his finger in my face. "I'm _not_ a pushover, nor will I allow myself to _be_ one. So you better _watch-eh_ yourself."

I gulped as I nodded obediently.

"Don't-eh scare him, Giuseppe," I heard my grandmother say. "He's _family_."

"Fabrizio's family too," Giuseppe replied. "And he's a _fool_! I blame my Apollonia for spoiling him!"

I gritted my teeth nervously as I heard him stomp out of the room, complainin' in Italian again. I had a feelin' dat my great-uncle was someone I never wanted to see angry. Somethin' about his character reminded me of Professor Ratigan. Da records did say Giuseppe was a college professor. He wasn't a crime-lord, da records indicated nuthin' about dat. And he didn't seem like da kind of guy dat would ever intentionally harm a soul. But all dhose years of workin' with Professor Ratigan taught me dat college professors had _zero_ tolerance for failures. And Great-uncle Giuseppe proved to be no exception. In order to deal with him, I had only two choices: either I avoid him as much as possible, or treat him with da utmost respect by speakin' only when I'm spoken to.

"Don't let Giuseppe scare you," I heard Charles say, breakin' my train of t'ought as he touched my shoulder. "He's usually not like this. He just had another argument with his son again."

_Boy, dis Fabrizio really must be a trouble maker,_ I said in my head. Somethin' inside told me dat in order to gain my great-uncle's grace, I must stay away from his son.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Grandma Maria told me, as I saw her gesture at Carolina to prepare da meal. "I'm going to take bath upstairs, _caro_. Annabella and Charles will show you rest of house."

I saw Maria nod her head as she looked at Annabella, who nodded her head obediently. After Maria left the dining room, Annabella and Charles escorted me to da next room ... which was full of clocks.

"This is my work-room," Charles informed me. "Your father used to spend most of his time here with me. He was my little helper."

"You're a _clock-maker_?" I asked.

My step-grandfather nodded. "Not many appreciate the value of clocks, but your father did." He lifted one of his masterpieces above his head "What_fabulous_ piece of craftsman ship," I heard him utter so boldly. I don't know how anyone would consider clocks to be fabulous. Dhey all made too much noise, _especially_ Big Ben! And everyone back in London was so obsessed with dhem! Da _right time_ to eat dinner, da _right time_ to go to bed, da _right time_ to wake up, must see da doctor on _time_ ... Even my _own_ life would be dictated by da clock. It was _ridiculous_! As Charles gloated over his clocks, my eyes wandered to one in particular on his desk. Dis one was highly crafted, with two tree barks opposite each udher, bats hangin' from da branches, dheir wings touching a circular object in da center (da clock itself).

"What's dis?" I pointed.

Suddenly dat sad look returned on his face. "That's a musical clock," he replied. "I made that in memory of your father."

Musical?! I assumed my step-grandfather read my mind since I watched him turn da clock sideways to reveal a silver key at da bottom. He turned da key repeatedly until da music began to play. After da first t'ree notes played, a gasp nearly escaped my t'roat and I stared blankly at da clock. Somethin' about dis tune sounded familiar! I suddenly saw an image of my father ... as I remembered him, and I saw ... myself. I was four years old, I was playin' with Mom's purple ball of yarn, I used to like purple (still do). I don't t'ink my mother was around-she would've yelled at me if she saw me playin' with her yarn. I tossed it in da air, t'inkin' I could make it fly. I was laughin', havin' so much fun ... until it fell on my head and spilled itself all over me. I began to whimper. I was gonna get in trouble, I _knew_ it. Da evidence of what I did was all over me! She _hated_ it whenever I played with her yarn, she said I looked _stupid_. _What young boy plays with such a girlish toy!?_ My father, who stood across me just smiled, shook his head, and took da yarn off me, piece by piece. Dhen he rolled it up back in da ball da it originally was. I sighed with relief; my father saved me. _He_ never t'ought I was stupid, he saw only a young kid with a _big_ imagination. My father never left my side, no matter what. He treated me like someone with purpose. My mother used to tell him dat he was bein' _too easy_ on me, I could never figure out why my mother didn't approve what he did. She always yelled at me too. Somethin' in da back of my head told me dat Mom didn't like me much ... like she was ... ashamed of me ... But father always defended me, until dat evenin' happened ... dhen my father was gone, forever ...

Da night before my father was killed, he held me within his wings as we hung upside down to go to sleep. I heard him hum a tune in my ear ... da same tune dat was now playin' on Charles's musical clock.

"Does dis song have a name?"

"It's called _Serafino_," my step-grandfather replied with a nod. "Maria used to sing that song to Rupert before putting him to sleep."

It was a song my father would _hum_ to me whenever he put me to sleep. He wasn't much of a singer; it wasn't bad dhough, I must've liked it enough if it helped me to sleep. "What's da song about?"

"I only remember that it's about a little boy, if I'm not mistaken," Charles replied before he shrugged his shoulders. "You'll have to ask Maria."

My tour of da Boitano house resumed. Next da t'ree of us went upstairs to da hallway where doors to da restin' quarters where. Dat's when t'ings went _crazy_! My skin crawled as I heard da sound of a woman's voice, yellin'. I cringed as I saw a book fly out from one of da right doors. Da door opposite was opened, I heard a guy's voice yellin' back. "Why don't you mind-eh your own business, Linda!? You're _always-eh_ poking your nose in everyone else's!"

"Why do you _always-eh_ leave a mess on the floor, making _me_ do double work!?"

"Well we can't-eh _all_ be sparkling crystal glasses, can we!?"

"Oh great," I heard Annabella behind me sigh in exasperation. "The battlefield continues ..."

From da right door emerged da head of a female bat with red hair tied in a bun, small oval-shaped glasses, and a sour expression on her face. "It's-eh no wonder uncle gets frustrated with you! You are-eh nothing but a common, inconsiderate _slob_!"

From da left door emerged da head of a male bat with light brown fur, a mass of disheveled dark brown hair on his head, and oval-shaped glasses just like da female he was arguin' with (except his was bigger).

"Um, could you two at least resume your little war _later_!?" Annabella suddenly interrupted. "We have a _guest_."

Both bats suddenly looked in my direction. Da red-haired female's narrow eyes widened. "Who's _that_!?"

"_That_ is your second-cousin," Annabella replied, just before she turned to me. "These two are Fabrizio and Linda."

Dat male bat with da glasses was Fabrizio (da same one my great uncle Giuseppe mentioned about)!? I smiled at both my second-cousins, but nervously. Somehow, I wasn't too thrilled about meetin' _dhese_ two bats, not after witnessin' dheir _battlefield_, as Annabella called it.

"I don't-eh like the look of him!" I heard Linda blurt. "He looks-eh _suspicious_ to me."

_Again_ with da suspicious line!? I sighed in exasperation, dis time I didn't try to suppress my feelin's. Because I made it obvious, Linda began to approach me with her wings crossed. "Why do I get the feeling that-eh _you're_ a slob too?"

Why did I get da feelin' da I didn't like her!? Her last comment managed to hit a nerve.

"I overheard uncle Giuseppe talking about a visitor," Linda continued. "He said he _hoped_ thees-eh boy wouldn't be a nuisance like _Fabrizio_."

_Excuse me_!? _Me_, a nuisance!? I wasn't da one who t'rew a book out da door, screamin' _my_ head off!

Linda must've noticed da stunned look in my eyes. After starin' into dhem for a few seconds, she gave me a cocky smile and turned to walk away. But not before stopping to say one last comment, "Or perhaps you're _not_ a nuisance at all. You look too cowardly to be one ... and too _stupid_."

_Stupid_!? Oooo, dat did it! Now I was boilin' _mad_! Both my teeth and fists were clenched as I struggled to suppress my anger.

"Now Linda, _that_ was uncalled for!" Annabella replied. "Finnius hasn't done anything to you."

Linda made no sign dat of acknowledgin' what she did, which only added to my fury. Fortunately for me, Annabella was good enough to defend me and dat gave me some comfort.

"Don't mind her, Finnius," Annabella told me as she placed her free hand on my shoulder. "Linda is a tease. She has been calloused ever since her father left her and Zia Giuliana."

"A _tease_ ees _right_," Fabrizio added in a whisper (Linda had already left da hallway). He was da next one to approach me dis time. Fabrizio was taller dhan me, but not nearly as tall as his father. He was dressed in a uniform dat looked as if from someone who worked in da factories (I should know, I ran into some factory workers as a pirate). "You look-eh so much like my baby sister," he said as he compared myself to Annabella. I wasn't sure if dat was suppose to be a compliment or somethin' else. Dhen he shifted his glance from me to Annabella. "I must-eh go to work now, sorella._Arrivederci_."

Fabrizio said nuthin' more to me and walked away. Aldhough he made no attempts to insult me like Linda, I didn't find his attitude of ignorin' to be any different. Everyone else I met were at least kind enough to greet me and showed some interest in learnin' about me. Fabrizio on da udher hand, didn't even acknowledge me aside from da comment dat _I looked so much like his baby sister_.

"I'm sure you heard about Fabrizio," Annabella uttered, noticin' da displeased look on my face. "We sometimes call him the _delinquent of the Boitano family_. He has had poor judgment of character when it came to people he dealt with. That's why his mannerisms aren't the greatest."

_Why his mannerisms aren't da greatest_? I giggled nervously as rubbed da back of my neck ... now why did _dat_ sound so familiar?

"Anyway, don't mind either one," Annabella continued. "They both like to fight a lot. I usually ask for Carlo's help to break it up if it gets out of hand."

"Speaking of Carlo, you won't see him until tomorrow evening," said Charles. "Unlike the rest of us, he lives in his own place with his wife and three daughters."

"So dhen I've met everybody who lives here?" I uttered.

"Not quite!" Annabella corrected. "You haven't met my mother, Apollonia Boitano."

Apollonia Boitano? Da last t'ing I remembered readin' about her was she used to be an Artist's model, known by da title _Da Venus Incarnate_.

"But she's taking a nap right now," Annabella added. "You'll meet her at dinnertime."

"In the meantime, we'll escort you to your quarters," said my step-grandfather.

My room was da door at da end of da hallway, further away from da two rooms where Fabrizio and Linda were. It was a wide and spacious room, with only a small bureau in da corner and a wide bed. Just above was a long metal bar attached to da ceilin', where a bat would usually go to sleep. It wasn't usual for bats to sleep in a bed, unless dhey were ill or injured. And when we lie in beds, we always lie on our stomachs, never on our backs. Dat was why I struggled to keep comfortable in da bed back at da Collins's household. But right now, I was actually yawnin'. Dat bed looked so invitin'. I lazily dropped my suitcase on da floor as I walked toward it. My step-grandfather and second-cousin must've guessed I was exhausted; Charles took my suitcase and placed it next to da bureau while Annabella pulled da blankets off.

"Zia Maria will come in to wake you when it's time to eat," said Annabella. "We're having pumpkin tortellini, Carolina cooks it well."

"Because you're family, this is also your house," said Charles. "If you ever have any troubles or concerns on your mind, feel free to talk to us. I'm usually not one for much talk, but both Annabella and Maria are good listeners."

Annabella smiled at me. "Welcome to the Boitano family, Finnius."

I was at a loss for words, but I smiled in return as Annabella and Charles left da room. My first evening with my relatives. Dhey seemed like a warm-hearted bunch, dhough I couldn't say da same for Linda and Fabrizio. Aside from Grandma Maria, I felt a particular closeness to Annabella. Dhere was so much I wanted to ask her, like how da hell did she manage to enter da British Navy!? And how did she manage to keep her spirits up, especially after bein' crippled for some time? My step-grandfather Charles was nice, he seemed like a bat devoted to his work. I wasn't sure about my great-uncle Giuseppe because of his outburst from earlier. And knowin' dat he's a college professor didn't give me much comfort; I just had to remember not to get on his bad side. I didn't know too much great-aunt Giuliana or what kind of bat she was, udher dhan what Annabella said about her bein' _protective_. And Carlo and Apollonia I had yet to meet.

Unanswered questions of what awaited me plagued my mind as I fell lazily on da bed ... and closed my eyes ...


	3. The Puppet Show

**Boitano is the Italian surname for "box-maker," a very simplistic meaning that implies a person of humble birth. It also happens to be a name from my mother's side of the family. I remember doing a family tree a long time ago in elementary school, but didn't have much appreciation of that topic until later on. As simple as this name sounds, it's actually pretty rare. Not many people have this surname in today's day and age. That is why I was more than proud to use this surname for Fidget's Italian relatives, which you are about to meet in this story. These Italian bats are Rupert Holloway's side of the family (his real name is actually Rudolfo Boitano). And Fidget, who struggles with connecting in a world where family is of great importance, takes a journey to Liverpool where his Italian family resides ... and he is forever ****_changed_**** ...**

**Chapter 3: ****_The Puppet Show_**

"_Caro ... caro ..._"

I felt somethin' shake me on my left shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw da face of Grandma Maria, lookin' down at me. "Wha' happ'n ..." I yawned as I rubbed my eyes.

"Ees dinnertime, _caro_," I heard my grandmother say. "Everyone else ees sitting een the diningroom."

I pressed both my palms against da mattress to lift myself up. I noticed Grandma Maria had changed into a sleeveless blue dress ... and I also noticed_somethin' else_. Earlier, I had said dat she was da most beautiful _old_ lady I ever saw. She still was, except ... I suddenly realized why she usually kept her neck and wings covered. Dhose were da areas where her age showed da _most_! I never imagined dat a bat's wings could be so wrinkled! Dhey looked like a pile of unpressed shirts! I turned my face away in fear.

"What's wrong?" I heard my grandmother say.

I usually would hold my tongue in da presence of a lady if I couldn't say anyt'ing polite. But dat moment, I just couldn't help myself and pointed at her wings. "Your wings are so ... so ...!"

Maria quickly glanced at her wings and looked back at me confused (as if to say "What about dhem?") ... until I saw her expression change to a smile. "Ah, I see ... you're not used to seeing _wrinkled_ wings, ees right?"

I nodded. Grandma Maria cocked her head backward and a loud, hearty laugh escaped her throat.

"Well I _am_ and _old-eh_ lady! What did-eh you _expect_!?"

My ears lowered in embarrassment. Now I felt stupid for openin' my mouth. _Of course_ she was an _old-eh_ lady, what _did_ I expect!? And _dis_ old lady was laughin' at me for my stupidity.

"Thees ees what happens when you get old, _caro_," my grandmother continued. "Your wings will do the same one day."

OK, did I _really_ need to hear dat!? I didn't want to _t'ink_ about gettin' old!

"_Bene_, come with me," Grandma Maria said with da wave of her wrinkled wing. "You must-eh be _hungry_ after your long journey."

Upon enterin' da diningroom, I gaped at da sight of dishes. Da table was filled end-to-end with food, from da pumpkin tortellini Annabella mentioned about, to meatloaf and spinach dumplin's. And it turned out I arrived just in time, because my stomach growled. All my relatives were talkin' amongst dhemselves, I did notice one in da group I have not met. It was most likely Apollonia Boitano, Annabella's mother. She (Apollonia) looked frantic about somethin'. I noticed she had a small mirror in her left hand while repeatedly fixin' her hair with da other. Annabella, who was sittin' right next to her, looked as if she was gettin' frustrated with her mother. Aldhough I had not met her yet, I could already tell what kind of person dis Apollonia was. Da style of her hair looked wild ... a little _too_ wild for someone her age. She wore a black dress with bare shoulders, but her neck and chest area looked no better dhan Grandma Maria's. Truthfully, I t'ought it looked _disgustin'_!

"Well don't just stand there, silly!" I heard Annabella call to me. "Dinner is ready."

I sat in da chair next to Annabella (I figured she needed to be rescued from her vain mother). Grandma Maria sat at da head of da table, announcin' for everyone to hold hands as we prayed to Mother Nature. _Pray_!? _Me_!? I held hands like everyone else, but I still cringed. I wondered if Maria caught on dat _prayer_ was _not_ my best friend? I guess I should've been relieved dat it wasn't prayer to a Christian god. In my studies with Father Richards, I learned dat most of my kind practiced paganism. It was similar to Christianity, except _nature_ was dheir god (in dis case, _Mother_ Nature) unlike a celestial god ... which struck me as strange. We bats always pride ourselves with flight, yet we don't worship a celestial god!? I also learned dhere were some bats in da world who did practice Christianity, but dhose were da _few_. I recalled t'inkin' to myself whether I wanted to believe Father Richards's words. After all, I was listenin' to words comin' from a _Christian mouse_. Obviously, he didn't lie about da pagan part.

After prayer ended (T'ank God!), every one began eatin'. I didn't hold back on tryin' da pumpkin tortellini, I was hungry! Hmm ... it wasn't bad at all. And Carolina made it? She was a damn good cook! It didn't take me long to clean dat plate up, plus I helped myself to some spinach dumplin's and meatloaf. I only paused once when I noticed everyone was starin' at me strangely. I must've been so carried away with how good everyt'ing tasted, I wasn't demonstratin' good table manners. I knew dis because Annabella pointed at da mess around my mouth. And great-uncle Giuseppe slapped his forehead in disgust. How embarrassin' ... Surprisingly, my relatives decided to overlook dat after Annabella handed me my napkin to wipe my face.

"You ... like-eh the food?" Carolina uttered, givin' me a shy smile.

You would've t'ought I'd nod in response quickly since I obviously liked da food. But I was still too embarrassed with makin' an ass of myself in front of my own relatives'. Annabella was da one who responded for me. "Don't worry, Sis. He _loves_ it."

Dat certainly made Carolina's evening.

"So eh, tell us about-eh yourself," I heard great-uncle Giuseppe say (with a hint of suspicion in his tone).

Oh God! Da question I hated da most. And didn't I tell dhem enough about myself already!? I took a deep breath before I spoke. "Well ... what do you want to know?"

"What do you _do_?" said Giuseppe. "I assume you have a _job_ ... something better than a _pirate_!"

"I'm ... a tailor now," I replied, hopin' dat my answer was satisfactory enough.

"A tailor?" said great-aunt Apollonia. "Are you any _good_!?"

"I ... guess I'm OK ..." Pieces of da tablecloth were clenched within my fists. I wasn't angry, I was just nervous out of my skin. I took a couple more deep breaths, as I was advised by Dr. Hemingway.

"How do you like being a tailor?" asked Annabella.

I actually did not mind bein' a tailor. Aldhough a lot of rude customers would come into da shop, I became used to it. And I was content at havin' a job dhat didn't involve puttin' myself in harms way. If only I could respond dat way with ease. But speakin' in general wasn't easy for me anyway. I always had to take breaths between words for a sentence. I was just glad Annabella was good enough to be patient with me. However, when it came to talkin' about my good friend Niecy, I spoke with da ease and comfort of a muse.

"Sounds like this Deniece brings out the best you," Annabella said with a smile. "From what you described, she seems like a very supportive individual."

"She is," I nodded.

"But I don't want-eh to hear about your Deniece," Giuseppe added impatiently. "I want to hear about _you_!"

My great-uncle's response was enough to make me realize dat I shifted da conversation. Now I became nervous once again. I tried to cover my fear, but my very stern great-uncle noticed it and leaned forward on da table until his face was inches from mine. "I asked you to tell me about yourself, and you talk more about thees Niecy, or whatever her name is!"

"Well ... because I'm more comfortable talkin' about her," I replied.

"_Comfortable_!?" my great-uncle blurted. "Man-kind _never_ progresses in life by being _comfortable_, boy!"

Oh great! How was I gonna win dis!? A man is not allowed to be comfortable!?

"Don't scare him, Papa," Annabella added in my defense. "Can't you see struggles to speak? He came from miles away to see us."

"All the reason for me to be more suspicious! Isn't it strange that he suddenly decides to visit us _now_!?"

Beads of sweat trickled from da back of my head. Was dhere gonna be a fight?

"He didn't know we existed, _cognato_," said Grandma Maria.

"How could he _not_ know, _cognata_!?" Giuseppe complained. "What has he been doing this whole time!? Getting himself _drunk_!?"

Ouch!

"He has been getting drunk, I can tell! _Signore abbi pieta_, that's-eh _all_ I need is another drunken idiot!"

"Papa, calm down!"

Obviously, he didn't listen to his daughter. Great-uncle Giuseppe refused to give me a break about da face I made when he accused me of getting myself drunk. It wasn't a false accusation dhough. I did get drunk a lot in my piracy days. But my great-uncle continue to argue how characters like myself gave bats a bad name, dat he worked too long and hard to prove to da world how smart bats really are by becomin' a university professor ... Boy, Father Richards did say dat people would not have favorable opinions about me, but isn't dis just pushin' it!? Surprisingly, my great-aunt Apollonia manage to calm her husband down. However, her best defense on my behalf was to give me a sporting chance until da moment I start stealin' somet'ing. Dhen I heard Giuseppe respond with "I'll do it for you, Apple-pie" (_Apple-pie_!?).

Grandma Maria demanded dat we all sit quietly for da remainder of dinner and eat. Now _dat_ part I would have no trouble doin' ... Dis time I minded my table manners ...

I was so stuffed with pumpkin tortellini, spinach dumplin's, fresh-baked bread, and apple pie. Carolina was a damn good cook (will I get _fat_ after dis visit?)! You would t'ink dis meant dinner went well. Well, it would've been fine had it not been for my great-uncle given me a hard time. Because of my unmannerly display da first time, great-uncle Giuseppe kept correctin' me every t'ree seconds if I didn't hold da fork right or wiped my face with a napkin. _Did-eh your Captain teach-eh you table manners!?_ or _Haven't you seen a napkin before!?_ were all I could hear from his mouth. And dhen he kept comparin' me to my second-cousin Fabrizio, dat I _had better not be a troublemaker_ or I needed to _watch myself_ ... I t'ought I was gonna have a nervous breakdown! I found myself searchin' for Charles, da only udher male I could complain to about dhese problems I was havin'. He was kind enough to give me a cup of chamomile tea to calm my nerves. I didn't usually like tea, but it did help me.

"I apologize for Giuseppe's conduct," Charles advised me. "He's usually in better spirits ... when he's not arguing with his son, that is."

Usually in better spirits!? Ha! Sure could've fooled _me_!

"Believe it or not, your great-uncle is just like you."

I tried to suppress a smirk, but couldn't help myself. Just like me!? Dat _had_ to be some kind of joke! Even _I_ was never like dat as a pirate!

"It's no laughing matter, Finnius," my step-grandfather continued. "Giuseppe Boitano has had his share of troubles and heartaches. It's not easy for a young child to suffer the scorn from his own father, to be out on the streets at a very young age."

I could see how dat sounded like me. But when I learned about my culture t'rough Father Richards, he told me dat a lot of my kind ended up dat way. But what kind of excuse was _dat_!?

"I know it's hard, but don't judge your great-uncle too harshly. He doesn't know you well enough, it's only natural for him to be suspicious. He's really not a heartless man at all, once you get to know him better."

After da ordeal I went t'rough, I found dat hard to believe. It seemed to me like he didn't give a damn about my neurosis. Like mouse-kind, he acted like my nervousness was a sign of weakness. And I _hated_ bein' treated as weak! I've only known my great-uncle for half a day and he sure had a natural talent for makin' me feel _stupid_. Oh, and speak of da Devil himself ...

"Are you busy, Charles?"

Oh God, I began to tremble! I attempted to creep away, but Charles grabbed my arm and wagged a webbed finger in da air. Dat meant he wanted me to stay. Oh great, did I _really_ have to!?

"Not at all, Giuseppe. What is it?"

"Can you forgive me for my rudeness at dinner?" I heard my great-uncle say. "I don't-eh know what came over me."

"All is forgiven," I heard my step-grandfather reply.

_All is forgiven_!? Dat sounded just like words a Christian would say! I suddenly began to tremble more as I heard my great-uncle's footsteps comin' closer behind me. I really had to embrace myself with my wings. A pair of web hands landed on my shoulders. Dis time, I was shakin' so bad dat I t'ought I would attack my own great-uncle ... my own flesh-and-blood.

"You tremble like-eh plum pudding, boy," said great-uncle Giuseppe. "I find it hard to believe you're a tailor."

_I'd tremble less if you leave me alone!_ I t'ought to myself. I felt him turn me around to face him. One of his webbed hands held my face, almost squeezin' it. For a moment, we gazed into each udher's eyes. I breathed deeply in hopes I would tremble less. My great-uncle's expression changed from suspicion to surprise ... as if he had never looked into someone's eyes before. Dhen he turned his face away to look at my step-grandfather.

"For a drunken fool ... there's something _different_ about him."

"Although I've known him a short time," said Charles, "Finnius is a good kid. He wants to do better Giuseppe. He just needs a little help."

"A man must-eh learn to stand on his own two feet," my great-uncle insisted. "Even if one of his feet is a peg."

Oh, I got da hint. _Ha, ha, ha_ ...

"But thees boy isn't doing too bad, for a start."

OK, where was he goin' with all dis!? Before it looked like he despised me, now he had a sudden change of heart!? I was beginnin' to t'ink my great-uncle was a _looney_! He turned his head back to face me again.

"Just-eh behave yourself, boy. You follow the rules, you be alright."

Behave _myself_!? My great-uncle was da one who embarrassed me, nearly drove me to madness, and he was tellin' _me_ to _behave myself_!?

"But first, you should hurry upstairs and take a bath. My daughter is patiently waiting."

I suddenly stopped shakin', but only to be stunned. Did my good ears suddenly go bad!? I could've sworn I heard my great-uncle say his daughter was _waitin'_ for me in da bath.

"You English-bats still have a lot to learn," I heard my great-uncle sigh with a tone of impatience. I could tell my expression annoyed him. "Eet ees part of our custom for family members to take baths together."

Really!? It still sounded a little strange to me.

"Well, what are you waitin' for, you silly boy!?" Giuseppe blurted, back to his crazy old self. "I told-eh you my daughter is waitin'!"

I wasted no time in runnin' out of da room, for fear my great-uncle would embarrass me _again_.

"You came just in time, cousin! The bath water is starting to get cold."

I squeezed my eyes shut as I closed da door and locked it. T'rough a brief glimpse, I saw my own second-cousin nude from da neck down. For a pudgy little t'ing, she had a nicely shaped body. It was like lookin' at an Italian model in an old paintin', more attractive than her mother (and Appollonia was the model). But dat wasn't what embarrassed me. What embarrassed me was da fact da I was about to take a bath with my own second-cousin! Great-uncle Giuseppe said it was customary for relatives to bathe togedher, but did he _really_ expect me to believe dat!? My body began to shake again, only dis time it was a lot harder to control. I mean, to be _here_, bathin' with my _second-cousin_!? It was just ... awkward! I was only lucky dat Niecy was not here, she would've killed me if she saw me in dis predicament!

"Are you feeling alright, cousin?" I heard Annabella ask me. "You look a little pale, like you're feeling ill."

Actually, I was feelin' ill. Somethin' was tellin' me I shouldn't be here. But I was able to tell her what was botherin' me, with both eyes opened. I even told her about bein' diagnosed with neurosis and how it has affected me. She seemed like da understandin' type.

"_Aiutare il ragazzo, Ã¨ confuso!_" she blurted just before cockin' her head back, laughin'. "Like my father said, you've still got a lot to learn. You've been hanging around mousedom society for too long."

"Maybe I have," I replied, somewhat displeased because her _laugh_ made _me_ feel stupid.

"I don't know about this neurosis bit," she continued as she _grabbed_ me by my arm, "and I'm no doctor. But I would call that trembling of yours_normal_."

"_What_!?"

"You're trembling because _this_ is new to you." Annabella was _disrobin'_ me as she said dis. "This is one thing mousedom society doesn't understand about us. Mice, especially the English, believe emotions should be suppressed, then give names to any little emotional _imperfection_. But _we_ believe emotions are a natural response our bodies make."

"So ... you're sayin' my n-neurosis is ... j-just a _name_?" I asked, completely disrobed and tremblin' still.

Annabella nodded her head. "Even in Italy there's oppression among the poor, or so my father has told me. Look what it did to my big sis-Whoa!"

I caught my second-cousin in my arms, just as her heel slipped on da wet floor. But she was heavier dhan she looked; _I_ fell backwards! I grabbed da edge of da bathtub with my left hand, while I held onto Annabella with my right wing (which happened to be my crippled one). I winced and gritted my teeth as I pushed Annabella upright. I wanted to ask if she was alright, but seein' her crawl in da bathtub like it was nuthin' saved me da trouble. I lifted myself to my foot and peg so I could crawl in to join her. T'ankfully, da water was still warm ... it actually felt great. And da touch of warm water soothed my sore wing.

"I see you overcame your fear," I heard my second-cousin say.

She was right! It really wasn't dat bad. How silly I felt for bein' afraid in da first place.

"Oh my, how did you get those scars!?"

Annabella pointed to my chest after she noticed da scars dat marked my upper torso. Dhese horrid scars dat had marked me for life. "I ... don't want to talk about it."

My second-cousin nearly took me by surprise as she moved her face very close to mine. "You've been oppressed too, haven't you?"

"Um ..."

"You have, I can tell," said Annabella. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Oh," I replied, not at all surprised by her response. "It's _dat_ obvious?"

"Let's say experience taught me how to read people. Not to mention the look in your eyes is the same as my big sister. She suffers from oppression too."

"Yeah, I can tell," I replied. "I figured as much when I ran into her. Maybe dat's why I feel sorry for her."

"Carolina always had trouble making friends," she continued. "Ask her 'how are you?' it will take her two minutes before she can answer. Other children would make fun of her because of that. She would run away, afraid. And when helping out with simple chores, it would take her hours before each one is done."

"She was quick to fix dinner," I pointed out.

"It still took her a lot of time before mastering it," Annabella replied.

We had talked a lot about Carolina's speech problems as Annabella took a scrub brush to my back. Da bristles tickled as she stroked dhem up my neck and between my shoulders. My body trembled with excitement as I breathed, tryin' not to laugh. And my second-cousin stroked pretty fast. I disciplined myself to get used to it ... with some help from Annabella's advice, dat my reaction was _normal_. I would've preferred scrubbin' my own back and normally I would've insisted in doin' so. But I couldn't help but t'ink about Carolina's needs. Sure, it was too easy to get annoyed when talkin' to her, especially when I asked her about my grandmudher before meetin' her in person. Still, I couldn't help but feel dat I should do somethin' to help her. Carolina was a sweet, gentle soul (and a good cook, I could never say dat enough). She deserved much better treatment dhan to be mocked by da public. But what could _I_ do? I was no doctor, no psychologist, I had no intentions of becomin' one either. It was my responsibility to do somethin' before I bid my family farewell. In da meantime, it was _my_ turn to scrub Annabella's back.

"My elder brother will be giving us a puppet show tomorrow," my second-cousin changed da subject. "He's very skilled at making puppets ... and is a good storyteller."

_Maybe dis Carlo could shed some light on how to help Carolina,_ I t'ought hopefully. "Can't wait to meet him."

After our bath was over, I walked with Annabella to her bedroom. She pulled a book from under her pillow and began to read, somethin' called_Oliver Twist_ by an author called Charles Dickens. Her father recently bought it for her as a late birthday present. Couldn't figure what da fuss on dat book was about, dhen again I didn't like readin' dat much. Father Richards made me read so many books, I t'ought my head would explode! My second cousin suggested dat I check on da udhers and see if dhey needed help. Now was my opportunity to find out how I could help Carolina. She would be da first one ... I didn't have to go far. I spotted her out in da hallway, sweepin' da floors. She sneezed a few times as da dust flew in her face. I heard her babblin' in her Italian tongue, I t'ink she was complainin' about da dust ... or was it because she disliked cleanin'? I couldn't tell ...

"Need any help?" I asked. Shortly after dhose words escaped my mouth, da question, _"What was I t'inkin'?"_ echoed in my head. I hated cleanin' just as much as Carolina did, if not more. I never forgot how da Collins made me clean and dust dheir house. It definitely was no fun! But ... as hard as it was, I knew dhere was a reason for it. I couldn't just stand and _watch_ Carolina clean.

"I, uh ..." Carolina began, appearin' nervous at my request. "Ah, no, ees okay ... I can do myself ..."

"How long have you been cleanin'?" I asked, judgin' from da sweat in her hair dat she must've spent an hour, if not more.

Again, Carolina made a nervous face. "Eh ... maybe two, three hour ... I almost done."

"Gettin' da house cleaned up for Carlo tomorrow?"

She nodded, dis time with a smile. "Carlo will give-eh puppet show tomorrow."

"Do you like puppet shows?"

"Si, si!" she replied happily. "Carlo gives best puppet shows! They make me happy! You should see ...!"

"Of course," I replied. "I'll be dhere."

Suddenly, Carolina stopped what she was doin' and began to approach me. Her next comment took me by surprise. "You know ... you a good speaker."

A good speaker? _Me_!? I hated talkin' in front of crowds (in fact, I generally didn't like a lot of talk)!

"You very confident boy," Carolina continued. "You speak-eh English very well. Not like me. My English, terrible ..."

"Well ... you're doin' alright, so far," was da best response I could come up with.

"Because you make easy for me." Carolina smiled as she approached me and rested her webbed hand against my cheek. She graciously complimented me, tellin' me what a kind boy I was, how considerate I was for helpin' her when we first met and dat most folk would've laughed at her and left her to her humiliation. I ... I didn't know how to respond. Aldhough her kind words touched me, I couldn't bring myself to agree with da part of me bein' kind. Not after all da terrible t'ings I used to do when I worked with Captain Bates and Professor Ratigan. I could never forget dhose days, and neither did da mice folk in all of mousedom. And who could blame dhem!? Some of dhose mice I kidnapped, tortured, and robbed happened to be someone's best friend or relative. Some of dhem even cursed our justice system for allowin' someone like me to live and walk da streets in spite of da horrible crimes I've done. Anyone else would've been hung for da t'ings I did. Even Albert and Anna were very suspicious of me when I first entered dheir house, which was why I was extremely surprised dat Anna accepted me as her adopted son.

"And-eh, you liked my cooking," Carolina continued. "You made me very happy."

"I ... I did?"

My second-cousin nodded. "I always so nervous, I'm afraid of messing things up."

I slightly frowned at her. "Why do you t'ink dat? You're a great cook, everybody loves your cookin'."

"I know ... But-eh, I think Papa ees ashamed of me sometimes. I not have many friends ... Lot of people laugh at me because I no speak English too good."

"Your Papa loves you, cousin," I told her. "And you shouldn't feel ashamed for not havin' many friends."

"I shouldn't?"

I shook my head. "Of course not. You're a very sweet lady and very good at what you do. As for not havin' a lot of friends, you shouldn't let dat make you feel ashamed. As I said before, you didn't do anyt'ing wrong. You're not a criminal, you're not stupid, you just learn t'ings differently."

For a moment, Carolina looked at me with a stunned expression on her face. I could tell in dat moment she was takin' my words to heart. A tiny smile flickered on her face, dhen I saw a pair of tears emerge in her big, bright eyes. She slid her left wing across her cheeks to wipe dhem away. "You mean it?" he uttered in a quiverin' voice.

I nodded. "You just need to stop bein' so suspicious when someone is tryin' to help you! I notice you do dat a lot, even a while ago when I asked you if you needed help with the cleanin'."

Carolina chuckled nervously, though she didn't seem to be offended by my remark. "I didn't know I was suspicious. I just ... feel I have to do things myself. Because I'm an old-eh lady."

"Everybody needs a little help sometimes, even people who t'ink dhey need it." I proceeded to tell her how I wouldn't have gotten to where I stand right now if it hadn't been for da good, kind people I've met in my life. If it hadn't been for Niecy, I would've gone back to a life of piracy, still doin' da horrible t'ings I used to do. If it wasn't for Father Richards, I wouldn't have known I had livin' relatives. And if it weren't for my encounter with Carolina Boitano, I wouldn't have met Maria and da rest of da family.

Carolina dropped her broom and folded her wings around me in an embrace. I could hear her weepin', I couldn't help but hold her close to me. I felt bad for dis sweet cousin of mine. It was as if she never heard anyone speak kindly to her in her whole life. I t'ought _I_ had it rough, Carolina has had it worse. How it always angered me when I see kind, innocent people bein' treated like criminals. I remembered Father Richards told me dat Niecy and I weren't da only bats da suffered from oppression. Many bats in da world suffered from oppression everyday. As I stood dhere comfortin' my cousin, I learned what my purpose was. My life was spared from death for a reason. It was to help my family, and any bats in da world, to overcome oppression. I could never be a priest like Father Richards. Church life, prayer, and a priest's robes just ain't me. But dat didn't mean I couldn't help dhose in need. I would be fightin' like I did in da old days, but like a soldier. Unbound to any royalty or organized system known to mousekind, only to da dreams and hopes of da poor and needy, bats and rodents alike. Instead of feelin' sorry for myself, I could use my experiences as a means to help da weak be strong. It was my sworn duty to da citizens mousedom, I _owed_ dhem dat!

After she was done cryin', Carolina planted a kiss on both of my cheeks. "I'm glad-eh to know you, cousin. Rudolfo was just-eh like you when he was alive."

As da once nervous and clumsy Carolina sauntered away with pride, I was left with my hands cupped sentimentally to my cheeks.

Da evenin' of da big puppet show came. I was da first to encounter my second-cousin Carlo at da entryway. He was somewhat taller dhan me, dhough he was still considered relatively short. He had coffee-colored fur similar to great-aunt Apollonia, black hair, a curled up moustache, and an upbeat disposition. Unlike his father who always looked at me with suspicion, Carlo greeted me like a comrade in arms, grabbing my hands and shakin' dhem vigorously. I had never seen a man so excitable as he was in my whole life! I admired dat, but it just took me by surprise! He introduced me to his wife Adelaide, who was my height, slightly pudgy but it was what made her beautiful. She had curly golden hair dat curtained her shoulders, blue eyes, and gray fur. As too her pudginess, Carlo told me dat she was pregnant. Da puppet show dat was about to happen was created in her honor. A story about a whole new generation of life comin' into da world and how dhey overcome daily struggles to achieve dheir dreams. Sounded like _my_ kind of show!

Carolina prepared dinner for everyone as usual. She also did somethin' I never t'ought she would do. Her long, dark-gray hair had been cut off! It was cropped boy short to her neck! I was shocked ... but I liked it! Her new hairstyle made her look more mature, even with her baby-face. Even great-uncle Giuseppe and da rest were impressed with her decision. She was still a little clumsy, trippin' on da hem of her dress and nearly droppin' da silver tray she held in her hands. Annabella caught her just in time, but Carolina didn't seem to mind. I noticed Carolina whispered somethin' in her father's ear and pointed in my direction. Uh-oh ...!? But great-uncle Giuseppe's expression was dat of stunned surprise. Did dat mean he didn't hate me anymore? I sure hoped so ...

I saw Grandma Maria talkin' with great-aunt Apollonia with an annoyed look on her face. I wasn't payin' attention to dheir conversation, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it was because Apollonia was bein' vain again. Dhen cousins Fabrizio and Linda were at it again with dheir _battlefield_. It was Linda's mother, Giuliana, who had to break up da argument in respect to Carlo's company. And Charles Holloway gave Adelaide a new clock he just made.

We all sat at da diningroom table, except for Carlo who was busy proppin' up da little stage at da very end, surprisingly Grandma Maria was a part of dis show. Linda sat right next to me, I could never for da life of me why she decided to sit next to me! I could hear her secretly complain how a _stupid boy such as myself could ever be related to her_. On and on she would go about it! I was lucky dat Annabella, who sat opposite of me, intervened and told her to stop ... udherwise, I would've punched Linda's teeth out! Adelaide sat by my udher side. She had a cheery disposition like her husband and was curious to know more about me. One would t'ink after bein' asked dhose questions many times dat I would feel less awkward, but I didn't know Adelaide well enough to confess certain details to her. Dat was when da puppet show began.

"_Buona notte a la moglie e tutti la famiglia_!" I heard him announce. I guess he was sayin' somethin' like "welcome ladies and gentleman"?

"Tonight, I present-eh to you _La battaglia di sogni_! Eet tells-eh the story of six children who run away from the orphanage. Times are hard, they barely have enough to eat. Each child has a mind of his/her own, sometimes-eh they argue. But-eh as they journey through the dark streets of Italy, they all learn they have one dream in common: To find a sense of belonging."

A sense of belonging ... Da puppet show was barely startin' and already dat sentence became a song in my head. I focused all my attention on dat little puppet stage as dhose small curtains drew open. Da first character dat appeared, his name was Antonio, began to speak. As I was always t'ankful for, da show was in English. Dis Antonio character suffered from polio disease, had a crippled leg and wing, and had a lisp when he spoke. Because of dhese t'ings, he was a loner, shunned by society. He stared at da green grass, knelt in front of a bed of flowers, and prayed dat Flora, da bat goddess, would one day heal him from sickness. Dhen he is found by Luna, a beautiful bat of white fur who was more healthier, confident, and talked better. She argued with Antonio dat he shouldn't waste his time askin' for goddesses who don't listen. Dis Luna character was also very street-wise. I began to notice da care and effort dat was put into da makin' of dhese puppets. Dhey were small, carved of wood except for da wings which were made of black cloth. Dheir faces, especially Luna's, were oval and pudgy with round cheeks and yet dheir bodies were lean. Antonio and Luna walked down da lonely path, Antonia leaning on Luna's shoulders as he walked. Along da way, dhey meet da udher four children: an easily offended and envious brat named Anna, a greedy thief named Lorenzo, dictatorial Cesare, and seductive Alcina. I would've said dat each character represented each of da seven deadly sins, except dhere were only six of dhem. Each of dhem had a fault dhey struggled with and, as Carlo mentioned in da beginning, frequently fought because dhey didn't agree. Only Antonio seemed to be da pure one, due to his sickness. Aldhough I was a very poor judge of plays, puppet shows, operas, and anyt'ing of da sort, I found dat dis simple plot intrigued me very deeply. I related myself to Antonio who struggled with disease, but I was more inclined to relate to Anna, easily made upset over anyt'ing and everyt'ing. Where was dis story takin' me? If dhese characters were all searching for a sense of belonging, what would it be? I only shifted my focus once from da puppet show to glance at great-uncle Giuseppe who sat with his wife Apollonia. He seemed as intrigued with da show as I was.

Da puppet show eventually came to an end, leavin' me cold and dumbfounded with loss. Antonio had passed away from his disease, yet his spirit was sent to be with da goddess Flora. He was free from da sickness dat struck him in life. Da udher children grieved over his death, because he was da only pure and innocent one of da clan. From his death, dhey learned what dat sense of belonging was. It was da same t'ing I learned with Carolina: turnin' weakness into strength. Dhey struggled with dheir flaws ... and in da end it was dheir flaws dat bound dhem together.


	4. The Meaning of Family

**Boitano is the Italian surname for "box-maker," a very simplistic meaning that implies a person of humble birth. It also happens to be a name from my mother's side of the family. I remember doing a family tree a long time ago in elementary school, but didn't have much appreciation of that topic until later on. As simple as this name sounds, it's actually pretty rare. Not many people have this surname in today's day and age. That is why I was more than proud to use this surname for Fidget's Italian relatives, which you are about to meet in this story. These Italian bats are Rupert Holloway's side of the family (his real name is actually Rudolfo Boitano). And Fidget, who struggles with connecting in a world where family is of great importance, takes a journey to Liverpool where his Italian family resides ... and he is forever ****_changed_**** ...**

**Chapter 4: ****_The Meaning of Family_**

I decided to visit with Grandma Maria once again after dinner at da puppet show ended. Carlo and his wife had already left for home. I found her in da middle of singin' a song (for anudher puppet show, perhaps?). Her bedroom door was opened ajar, I peeked through to watch. Giuliana was playin' da piano while my grandmother sang along. Both were unsuspectin' dat I was around. As I listened attentively, I began to notice somethin' familiar about dat song.

_"Serafino, Con l'occhi blu ..."_

It was ... _dat_ song! Da same one on Charles' clock!

"Reversed to your old-eh pirate habits, _caro_?"

Where was I? I shook my head, my grandmother's words had taken me by surprise.

"What did-eh I tell you, _sorella_?" I heard my Aunt Giuliana complain. "Didn't I warn-eh you thees boy would be trouble?"

"Hey, it was nuthin' like dat!" I began to protest.

But Giuliana didn't believe me. She looked at me suspiciously with her wings crossed. "Isn't it? Spying on two old ladies without proper invitation ees not my idea of _nothing_."

"Now, now, _sorella_," Grandma Maria interrupted. "He was only curious because he heard me sing. Our nephew is a natural music lover."

A nervous chuckle escaped my t'roat. "It's just ... dat's da same song Charles has on one of his clocks. And ... my father used to hum it to me ... before I went to sleep."

"I sang it to Rudolfo, when he was a small boy," Grandma Maria replied.

"Charles told me about dat," I replied. "He said you would know more because of it."

Grandma Maria smiled as she lifted herself from her chair and approached me. She wore an aquamarine dress with long, almost see-through sleeves ... which actually did a good job of maskin' her aged wings. She gestured her hand by a chair next to hers, I knew she wanted me to sit down. So I did.

"Ees about a young boy," my grandmother began. "Like Antonio from _La battaglia di sogni_, he has-eh high hopes and dreams. But he suffers from disease." She paused for a moment, dhen she looked at me with sad eyes. As I began to sense, dhere was somethin' more. "Your father wasn't a very strong boy growing up. He ... couldn't eat his food without coughing."

"What was wrong with him?" I asked, puzzled.

"He was unusually hyper," Maria replied with a shrug. "He would-eh eat too fast and cough because of it. But there were also times he coughed even when he ate-eh slow. He would even cough without eating. Most-eh times it made him very sad."

I was surprised at what I was hearin'! My father always seemed like a very happy and healthy man.

"At times, I would see him sit in a corner, looking very depressed. How eet broke-eh my heart when I saw his face turn red from coughing. I would ask him if he was alright, he could barely speak because of the coughing. I could see in his eyes that he was in so much pain. I was crying, I told Charles to bring him to a doctor. Charles took-eh my advice ... we discovered that Rudolfo was diagnosed with something called-eh _Witch's hammer_."

"_Witch's hammer_?" I replied.

"Eet was a name they gave for chronic coughing. The doctor also said that he might not recover at all. I was devastated from-eh the news, I couldn't accept it. I consider myself very fortunate that my family, especially Charles, believed they could prove the doctor wrong. It was Charles's affection that gave Rudolfo salvation."

"Is dat how my father became close with Charles?" I asked.

Maria nodded. Her warm, affectionate smile came back on her face. "I would sing the song of Serafino to your father every dawn before we went to sleep. He would cling tightly to my breasts, and I would gently sing in his ear. He looked so precious when being lulled to sleep. He grew up to be a happy, hard-working gentleman, well respected by his fellow bats and family."

My mind wandered back to my childhood when I played with dat ball of yarn. I remember my father argued with my mother dat she _"shouldn't be so hard on me"_ because it was da _"little t'ings in life dat mattered and would save us all"_. Dhose weren't just some big words exchanged among adults. Dhere was a reason he said dat ... because he didn't want me to suffer da way he did when he was child. He wanted me to have da kind of life he didn't have as a boy, plus a great deal more. I cupped my cheeks with my hands at da t'ought of dis knowledge.

"My father was a great man," I uttered with a smile. "As I always knew he was. I just wish I could've made it up to him more."

Grandma Maria gave me a curious look. "You're thinking of-eh your past, aren't you _caro_?"

I nodded, tryin' hard to suppress da guilt I was feelin'.

"You needn't worry, _caro_. Because you've already made it up to him."

"How?" I asked.

"By coming here to the Boitano household," she told me. "Just your presence here has made quite a difference. Look-eh how confident Carolina looks-eh now. I don't-eh know what you did, but it made her very happy."

I chuckled warmly. "Well ... I couldn't help but feel for her."

"And her father, your great-uncle Giuseppe, has taken a liking to you too."

"I don't know about dat," I replied in disbelief. "Judgin' by dat night he lost his temper, it looked like he hated da very sight of me."

"In appearance _only_, _caro_," my grandmother corrected me. "Usually he suppresses his emotions because he believes himself to be a _rational man_. What he sometimes forgets dat what is considered _rational_ is what suppresses all bat-kind. His less than acceptable conduct actually made him more open. And he wouldn't have allowed you to bathe with Annabella if he still suspected you of being dangerous."

I scratched my head curiously. Gee, I never t'ought of it _dat_ way. Maybe I was just as guilty of da same mistake as dhose rich mice in mousedom society: assumin' dat _emotional equaled crazy_.

"Are you busy, _cognata_?"

My head jerked away from Grandma Maria to see da face of dat voice. Great-uncle Giuseppe was at da door, lookin' in my direction. I would've been nervous if it weren't for dat sentimental look in his eyes. He asked Maria if he could _borrow_ me when she was finished. My grandmother was almost done with me, but not without tellin' me somethin' of great importance. And dis was somethin' I was _not_ prepared for.

"And I have a name for you, _caro_. Something that'll give you pride."

"And what's dat?" I asked curiously.

"From now on, you'll be known to the Boitano family as _Fidelio_."

"_Fidelio_?"

"It means-eh _'faithful'_, because that's-eh what you are, pirate or not. You are the vessel of all hopes and dreams like Rudolfo was. And I am more than faithful that you will carry that tradition in anything you do."

_Fidelio_ ... _faithful_ ... It sounded kinda womanish to me. But somehow dat name managed to give me a sense of peace in my heart. After all, it confirmed what I had already learned. All of bat-kind and mouse-kind were countin' on me to deliver dhem from oppression. And as I vowed to myself earlier, dat was what I intended to do. And of course, I t'ought I should make my grandmother happy by simply accepting it.

Great-uncle Giuseppe and I walked down da stairs. For long time, we were both silent. I wanted to be da first to say somethin', but I could sense dat my great-uncle was at a loss for words. It wasn't until we walked into an empty diningroom dat he finally spoke. "I saw Carolina dressed in a nice gown, as if she was going to meet someone."

"Oh?" I replied, feelin' a little nervous by dat last remark. "Is dat good or bad?"

"I can't say that I approve, knowing my daughter's condition too well," great-uncle Giuseppe. "But what surprised me was her response to me. She said, 'If-eh I fall Papa, I know how to pick-eh myself up.'"

Wow, dat was quite a switch! I knew Carolina felt better from our little talk, but I never imagined she would go as far as walk out in public with pride!

"That night of the puppet show, Carolina told-eh me you gave her confidence. I've never seen her so excited and happy ... not even when she was a child. How did-eh you do it?"

"I just told her dat she shouldn't be ashamed of herself for not havin' many friends," I replied. "Dat she did nothin' wrong, she just learned t'ings differently."

"It seems like-eh that 'learn things differently' was what gave her that confidence," said my great-uncle. "You managed to do that one night what I couldn't do in all-eh the years I raised her. How I envy you for that."

"You did da best you could," I said to him, forgettin' altogether dis was da same bat dat humiliated me at da dinner table. "She t'inks only good t'oughts of you and only wanted to please you. Doesn't dat count for somethin'?"

"Still, I could've done better," great-uncle Giuseppe continue. "I'm a rational bat, a university professor with a sole purpose to encourage young minds to grow. I prided myself on my successes with the students ... and yet I couldn't succeed with my own daughter. The doctors didn't have any hope for her ... and neither did I ..."

"Carolina t'inks only good t'ings about you," I told him. "And as I said, you did da best you could."

My great-uncle gave me a curious look. "You think-eh so, _Fidelio_?"

I nodded my head with confidence. I was even confident enough to say what was on my mind. "You just need to _stop tryin'_ to _mold_ her into somethin' she's not!"

Now did made great-uncle Giuseppe cross his great wings and give me a cock-eyed stare. I could tell my last comment offended him a little, but I didn't care. I just had to say it. "Dat's why she has been strugglin'! It's because your expectations are too high dat everyone around you feels _forced_ to please you! Dat may work very well at your school, but it doesn't help someone like Carolina who's tryin' to make friends and be social!"

"And-eh you know this _how_?" my great-uncle asked in a sardonic tone, assumin' his question would stump me.

"Because my last crime boss was a university professor!" I blurted without hesitation. "I was his right-hand bat! He made me do so many jobs dat _he_t'ought _anybody_ could do _without mistake_! But he had no idea what it was like, livin' in my shoes. Dhose jobs were _hell_, always on da run, losin' sleep, starvin', with my broken wing and peg leg! And da only opportunity I would ever get for a break is when I would go to da _Rat Trap_ for a drink and smoke!"

I suddenly realized dat I was gettin' carried away. Not only was I complainin' without limit, but I was also very loud. But great-uncle Giuseppe's expression was blank with surprise, which was a sign to me dat he was listenin'. "So you're telling me I should stay out of Carolina's business?"

"I'm sayin' you should stop talkin' down to her like some stupid, helpless child," I continued. "Because she is _not_ a child! And she's _not_ stupid!"

After my last comment, dhere was silence. I saw my great-uncle spread his great wings out dominantly. And dhen I began to quiver ... Did I just act out of line!? If I did, dhen I was in _big_ trouble.

"You have-eh a _big_ mouth, boy!" I heard my great-uncle reply in a _big_ tone of voice. "Just-eh like my Fabrizio! I should have a right mind to beat you for speakin' to your elder like-eh that!"

Oh great! Now I've _really_ done it! I wasn't feelin' so brave now. My big ears shrunk back in fear, like a little boy expectin' a beatin'.

"However, you speak-eh great words of wisdom for someone your age," my great-uncle continued, suddenly changin' da tone of his voice. "You are definitely _not_ Fabrizio."

"I ... take dat as a compliment?" I uttered, tryin' to sound confident again. I didn't trust dat sudden calm composure my great-uncle pulled. It reminded me too much of Professor Ratigan whenever he got mad at me for somethin'. He would get angry, talk in a big, boomin' voice, dhen suddenly became calm ... just before I would get _punished_.

Suddenly I was pulled forward by my wrists. Uh-oh, it was comin'! I was about to get seriously punished for it, I knew it! I was only an inch away from him now. I struggled to look him straight in da eye, I had to maintain some kind of dignity at least. I was a grown man, I had to learn how to take it like one (hopefully it wasn't somethin' too embarrassin')! I breathed heavily through clenched fangs as I stared at my current oppressor ... my own great-uncle. I couldn't allow myself to be weak in front of anudher university professor. I looked at my great-uncle with angry eyes. I didn't see my great-uncle, but a ghost from da past ... Professor Ratigan! I would face dis adversary of mine, no matter what da consequences were! Dhen darkness swept over me ... I was enfolded in my great-uncle's great wings. My chin was over his left shoulder, my arms reflexively crossed around him. My webbed fingers tightly clung to tufts of Giuseppe's shirt as I breathed rapidly, expectin' dis gesture to be some kind of trick to catch me off-guard.

"And you've passed my little test, _Fidelio_ ..."

His _little test_!? What was my great-uncle plottin' dis time!?

"Didn't I say before that a man should learn to stand-eh on his own two feet? Even if one of them ees a peg?"

Yes, I remembered ... But what did dat have to do with anythin'?

"You've proven to me that-eh you're capable of facing your aggressor, even though you were full of fear. And even if-eh that aggressor ees your own great-uncle."

"So grabbin' my wrists was your little _test_!?"

"Don't-eh tell me you forgot that-eh your great-uncle was also a street boy!" I heard my great-uncle blurt with a hint of disappointment in his tone. "I wasn't-eh _always_ a university professor, you know. I had to _work_ for it ... and everything else."

I sighed in defeat. I _did_ forget dat my great-uncle was a street child like I was. How could I have forgotten!? _Of course_ he was. Aldhough both were university professors with short tempers, dhere was one quality in Giuseppe's character dat Professor Ratigan lacked: a sense of humility. Never once have I heard my great-uncle brag about his genius. He even said once dat _Man-kind never progresses in life by being comfortable_. Only one who walked da streets would know of discomfort. And I was very sure it wasn't comfortable for him to t'ank me for givin' his daughter confidence. Why else would he choose to speak only after enterin' an empty dining-room?

"Dhen ... I guess I owe you an apology ... for my outburst ..." my voice quivered with guilt. I was still enfolded in my great-uncle's wings after all dis madness.

"Nonsense, boy," he blurted. "It is I who owe you the apology, for not treatin' you like family. And I guess eet's too easy to get suspicious, especially after years of disappointment."

"It's about your brother, isn't it?" I replied as we both withdrew from each udher's grasp. "Lucio Boitano."

Great-uncle Giuseppe proceeded to talk about da history between himself and Lucio, my only great-uncle who still lived in Sicily. Lucio was Giuseppe's elder brother. His mother died givin' birth to Giuseppe, which his father never forgave him for. Eventually dheir father passed away, drownin' his sorrows in booze. Both boys were left to fend for dhemselves in da streets. And like me, Giuseppe was an underling to his big brother, and became a skilled thief and trickster, t'anks to da many errands Lucio made him do. But Giuseppe also feared his big brother, sayin' he had some kind of _dark streak_. After da law finally caught up with da boys, dhey were t'rown in da orphanage. Separate parents adopted dhem, my great-uncle eventually became a hard-workin' boy. Everyt'ing he had in life, he had to work for. But a part of him held onto dis guilt from da past. When he found out what his brother Lucio had not only shot a man but was involved with da Sicilian mob, it was as if a piece of his heart was ripped out. Baby brother would never see his big brother again, not da one he was once close with. And he would blame himself for his brother's actions.

"But why should you punish yourself for what your brother did?" I asked my great-uncle.

"Lucio was the only family I had. And kept me away from-eh danger when we ran from the law."

"_Put_ you in danger is more like it," I protested. "He made you do all da dirty work while he was sittin' on his high horse, comin' up with crazy schemes. What if you had gotten caught!? Or killed!?"

"We _were_ caught, Fidelio. And Lucio never forgave-eh me for that. He said it was-eh my bumbling mistake that-eh got us caught."

"Still, your brother was just usin' you as his scapegoat because he didn't want to take responsibility," I replied. "You're better dhan him, smarter dhan him too. He wouldn't have survived without you."

A chuckle escaped my great-uncle's throat. "You are definitely not Fabrizio. You are very ... humble, a quality Fabrizio lacks."

"Um, t'anks ... I guess ..." It all seemed so strange how I was able to change my great-uncle's opinion of me with a bunch of _words_. It was as if I could never predict what would come out of my own mouth. And within such a short time, I managed to inspire Carolina to be brave ... without even tryin'!

"I couldn't help but listen." Great-uncle Giuseppe had already left da dining room to attend to anudher _battlefield_ between Fabrizio and Linda. Annabella just approached from da door dat lead to Charles's clock-room. She wore a soft, buttercup-colored dress with thin straps dat hung two inches below her shoulders. Da top was V-shaped and humbly exposed a bit of cleavage. It made her look all da more beautiful, especially when accented with a pearl necklace and earrin's. For a tomboy, Annabella was quite an attractive lady.

"I'm really impressed, _Fidelio_," she said as she proudly puffed up her chest and leaned against her crutch. "You've become quite the philosopher, for someone who suffers from _neurosis_. Didn't I tell you before that your fear was _normal_?"

I smiled sheepishly. I guess it served me right for believin' everyt'ing a doctor says as _gospel truth_. After listenin' to da stories of Carolina and great-uncle Giuseppe, it became evident dat doctors didn't always know _everyt'ing_.

"And now I hear that everyone is calling you _Fidelio_," Annabella continued. "How does it feel?"

"I'm ... _honored_ ..." I managed to say, feelin' sentimental by da sound of dat name. Dhen I decided to change da subject. "You never told me how you injured your knee."

How quickly Annabella's proud demeanor melted to sadness. I could feel dat dis was a sensitive topic.

"It was during Arabi's Revolt," she began. "Our fleet was in Alexandria. Under the orders of our admiral, we had the city bombarded. I was in the front line, and ... I was shot."

"Someone shot you in the knee?!" I replied with a blank stare. "How did dat happen!?"

Annabella twiddled her webbed fingers, a side to her I never would've imagined her to have. "I got a little ... careless, and let my guard down. We lost a couple of sailors from our fleet, one of them was my closest friend ... He was the _only_ mouse who _knew_ and respected me for who and what I was: A woman bat."

"You mean no one treated you with respect at _all_?" I asked, scratchin' my head. "But I read about you before I came here. Your name was in da books, it talked about you as if you were a hero."

A somewhat sarcastic chuckle escaped my cousin's t'roat as she shook her head. "Do you honestly think that they'd put me on a pedestal and_granted_ me that title?! _No_! I had to endure a lot of humiliation for the longest time ... even to the point of suppression."

Suppression ... That was da one _big_ word dat I knew da meaning of too well. I expected it from a church, from priests (Father Richards, da _only_exception), pirates, thieves, and even organized crime. But I never imagined anyt'ing like dat happenin' in a military! And it never occurred to me for one minute dat Annabella had gone t'rough da same hell I did, even if she was a bat. As if to read my mind, Annabella crossed her wings and gave me dat cock-eyed stare.

"_Think_ about it, cousin! How many women do you encounter that have been in _any_ military service, let alone the _British Navy_?"

Absolutely _none_! But what followed in our conversation left me horrified. As proud and strong as Annabella appeared to be when I first met her, her dark side was becomin' evident. As if havin' to endure shameless name-callin' wasn't bad enough when she spent hours tryin' to prove to Queen Mousetoria dat she was trustworthy enough. Dis woman was practically sold into slavery. She and Carlo were separated into different fleets because da admiral felt dat his presence would prevent her from _toughenin' up_, which devastated her greatly since da two were very close. Whatever discipline and chores were expected of da udher sailors, Annabella did _tenfold_! What I was to Captain Bates as a pirate, _she_ was to da admiral: clutzy, makin' mistakes dhen payin' for dhem _dearly_ with more humiliation, especially if her head was _in da clouds_. She had to be creative to find a means to communicate with Carlo t'rough telegram ... in which da moments were very few because she hardly had any privacy (why would she need to be creative if she did?). Da only times dhey were actually togedher were durin' da wars, especially da Ashanti War in 1873. Old books and manuscripts with da mention of Annabella Boitano spoke in brief but _great_ terms: da first woman bat to _rise_ to da ranks of _Chief Boatswain_, a title_unheard of_ but _worthy_ of a bat in all mousedom society. How impressed I was when I came upon da words _unheard of_ and _worthy_, as if she were a pillar of strength. But it was unclear to me what _unheard of_ actually _meant_. And as to Annabella's knee injury, she was shot in her attempts to push her comrade out of firin' range durin' da bombardment in Alexandria. Not only did it cost her bein' able to use her leg properly, but her attempts were in vain when she spotted a hidden enemy who fired straight t'rough her comrade's heart. He was killed instantly. As she was still in among da revolt, she couldn't rest even dhough her knee was injured. Her true worthiness was finally recognized after he was responsible for leadin' da udher sailors in da defeat of Urabi's army in da _Battle of Tel el-Kebir_ ... _against_ da admiral's orders. Did I fail to mention dat da admiral and my cousin were _not_best friends? Annabella had become very weak with da loss of blood and would've been dead if her fellow sailors had not learned da error of dheir ways in da way dhey treated her. It was only dhen she was viewed as a worthy fighter while not lettin' it change her good nature, a trait uncommon in a tough woman. Da so-called _tough women_ I met were conformed man-haters, especially Captain Lillian Bates. While my cousin greatly disapproved of her fellow sailors' actions of always sidin' with da admiral because of her gender, she chose to lead dhem to victory because she knew in her heart dat to have done any differently would only mean she was no better. Her admiral would've had her t'rown in da brig for her actions, but her fellow sailors stood by her side. One could easily assume dhey disliked da admiral as greatly as Annabella did. Who can argue when da needs of_many_ outweighed dhose of _one_? One of dhem even fought for her, sayin' she should be given a medal after she was to be taken to da medics. Fortunately, she survived and da bullet was removed from her knee. But da delay of treatment and point of contact left her disabled. She was to walk with a crutch for da remainder of her days. She was dhen promoted to Chief Boatswain by da admiral, who was shortly afterwards forbidden to command anudher ship again. Annabella Boitano was discharged honorably, alongside her brother. I could imagine she was so overwhelmed with joy dat she and her brother could be togedher again. My cousin said it was da first time in many years dat she was able to shed tears without bein' viewed as _weak_. How I greatly respected her for stayin' true to her nature in spite of all da pain and sufferin' she went t'rough. Anyone who suffered greatly yet remained true to dheir spirit had my deepest respect.

"You said once dat experience taught you how to _read_ people," I uttered, unaware dat my voice a lot quieter dhan normal. "Now I know your secret to sensin' when someone has been _oppressed_."

"And now I sense a tone of shame in your voice," Annabella brought to my attention. "You're a bit watery in your eyes too. I take it was because you thought I was granted my rank and those _great words_ in the books?"

Oh God, my eyes were watery!? I had no _idea_!

"Not to worry, _Fidelio_," Annabella assured me as she cupped a webbed hand on my cheek. "I don't hold any grudges against you, no matter what. I know you're still learning. But remember this, dear cousin of mine. Books talk of greatness as if it were admirable. In reality, greatness is only recognized when you're facing fear, even fear of death. How you act on that greatness will determine the respect you achieve, _not_ the musings of books."

_Greatness_ ... So _dat's_ what it was called. All dat pain and sufferin' I endured as a child and into manhood ... Father Richards told me while I was in Pentonville Prison dat to make amends would mean I had to go t'rough great pain and sufferin'. It wasn't until now dat I learned it had a name._Greatness_ ... _Not_ neurosis, but _greatness_ ...

As I allowed Annabella to cling to my wing as we both _hobbled_ upstairs, me with my peg and her with her crippled leg, she t'anked me greatly for listenin' to her story. Da _absolute truth_, as she called it. She told me I was da first one to listen to her side without prejudice. She said dat her service in da British Navy earned her braggin' rights so dat any mouse or bat on da street wouldn't dare to treat her with disrespect. She would talk of how_great_ her adventures were in da navy, which worked like a charm because mice in Liverpool respected her. But deep in her heart she knew dat her braggin' rights were only a half-truth. Da whole truth hurt too much; she was da kind of woman who wanted to remember good t'ings only. Even her own family took da braggin' side of her stories for granted, when she would begin tellin' dhem da truth, dhey wouldn't believe her (which _surprised_me).

"Dhey t'ought you were lyin' when you were tellin' da truth!?"

"They thought I was being silly," said Annabella. "Because I always looked so optimistic ... as if I never have sad days."

"Oh ... I t'ink I understand ..." Dumbing down one's knowledge was definitely not an easy t'ing to do. I should know dat, after years of servin' under Captain Bates and Professor Ratigan. Dis was anudher t'ing I respected Annabella for. She was a bright girl and, unlike her elder sister, was not ashamed to admit it. Lookin' at my cousin was like lookin' in a mirror. She was da female side of me, a much older and wiser one. And we were _both_comfortable in knowin' dat we survived great oppression and were both alive to tell da tales. Annabella and I looked into each udher's eyes and chuckled.

As Annabella closed da door to her bedroom, I caught sight of Linda Pirone stompin' toward my direction. Even before I paid attention to da expression on her face, I could sense she was angry about somethin'. What was it _dis_ time!? She didn't speak a word yet and I was already gettin' annoyed. Why did I _always_ get annoyed so easily, especially at _her_ presence!?

"Why do I _always-eh_ get annoyed whenever I see _you_!?" was da first sentence dat escaped her mouth. _Good question_. I never knew how _like-minded_ we really were.

"What about me annoys you?" I managed to ask, soundin' as if _I_ were da victor of da battle. She probably wouldn't be able to _answer_ dat one.

"Ever since you set-eh foot in thees-eh house," she began, "Fabrizio won't stop makin' a mess to spite-eh me! And _nobody_ listens-eh to me whenever I ask-eh for help!"

"And dat's my fault _because_?"

Linda paused, as if my comment caught her off-guard on somethin'. Her mouth hung open as she gave me an awkward stare. In dat moment, I learned why I got annoyed with her so easily. It was because she was makin' it _too easy_! I originally t'ought she was challengin' me, but in fact it was quite da opposite! I remembered once I had met dis girl durin' my pirate days. It was anudher bat, da very first one I had an affair with. Her name was Marie Bonaguide and she was Parisian. She had a gorgeously unique hairstyle and expensive tastes. Too expensive! She had wanted dis expensive diamond necklace so badly, but I couldn't afford to get it, not even with da money I earned (or should I say _stole_?). So I stole da necklace itself, I almost got caught. But when I gave it too her, she complained because I didn't buy it. Well I was a pirate, what did she _expect_!? She would also complain dat I spent too much time on errands, leavin' her alone. But when I took time off to spend it with her, she complained still. I remember gettin' so nervous when I was around her, I was afraid she would call Scotland Yard. And since she was my first girl, I was inexperienced at handlin' situations like dat. Dhen again, she was a prostitute and I didn't expect much to begin with. I guess I just wasn't _t'inkin_. Now my cousin was obviously no prostitute, dat lifestyle wouldn't suit her at all. She was da book worm of da family, as I learned from Annabella. And she liked to keep t'ings neat and organized, it was very evident da first time I encountered her. But how she approached me and her failed attempt at startin' and argument was an attitude similar to Marie Bonaguide. I was too familiar with it, again dis was why I got annoyed with her.

"B-because everyone else-eh talks about _you_!" Linda found her tongue again and continued complainin'. "_You're_ the center of attention! Everyone else-eh would rather help _you_ out ... and you haven't helped anyone else!"

"_Is dat so_?" I replied. While her response was intriguin', it still didn't change _my_ attitude. She took too long in her response anyway. "If I did nuthin', how come great-uncle Giuseppe t'anked _me_ for _givin' Carolina confidence_?"

Again, anudher awkard stare was all Linda could give me. She looked embarrassed. I t'ink she knew she was makin' a fool of herself. Her face turned red with anger. She wanted to say somethin', she wagged a webbed finger at me. But no words could come out of her mouth. I just smiled. She gritted her fangs and turned to stomp away. I chuckled to myself, in dat moment I felt like da old Fidget I used to be. Da only different was I didn't do anyt'ing illegal.

"Aaaahhhh!"

My moment of pride ended in dat instant. Dat was Linda screamin', and what followed was a loud t'ump! I rushed over to see what happened. Linda had fallen down da stairs. Apparently, she was blinded by anger and didn't pay attention to what she was doin'. I saw her webbed hands holdin' her left ankle, she somehow managed to sprain it. A twinge of guilt overcame me. What have I done? I rushed down da stairs, I almost fell myself but I was quick to grab onto da railin'. I descended to her side, it looked as if she had tears in her eyes. I offered both my hands to help her to her feet. But she slapped dhem away.

"Now look-eh what you did!" Linda retorted. "You made-eh me fall!"

"I made you fall _how_!?" I said tersely. She couldn't respond, and was obviously humiliated by dat. Tears continued to fall down her face. "Can you get up?"

"I don't know!" she replied, a hint of fear in her voice. I watched as she let go of her swollen ankle to reach for da railin'. She pulled herself up, dhen winced when she put weight on her foot. "Ow, it hurts!"

"I'll go find your mother," I said to her. "Maybe she'll bring a wet rag for your ankle."

"Thees ees _awful_!" she cried. "Now I'll end up just-eh like Annabella!"

"I'm sure it's not _dat_ bad," I responded, a little disgusted by dat last comment. "You probably just need to sit down and put your foot up for a while. I'll find great-aunt Giuliana."

Luckily, I saw Giuliana just at da top of da stairs. She asked what happened, and I was da first to tell her. Linda butted in, sayin' to her mother dat I_pushed_ her down da stairs. Obviously it was a trick to get back at me for humiliatin' her, but part of me was afraid dat it would work since Giuliana didn't like me to begin with. I wouldn't be surprised if she believed her daughter's word over mine. Giuliana looked at me suspiciously, as she usually did. But dhen she looked back at her daughter.

"Eet's only your ankle that's in pain," I heard Giuliana say. "Eef _Fidelio_ pushed you down as-eh you say, how come you weren't hurt-eh _worse_?"

Again, anudher embarrassed look came on Linda's face. One would t'ink I would be laughin' triumphantly to myself. Giuliana believed _me_, and she was da one relative whose trust I haven't earned yet. Linda knew it too and she deserved to be humiliated after da way she disrespected _me_ to begin with. But somehow I felt a little pity for her. She was already in tears as it was, and it didn't feel too good to gloat over someone else's misery. In her defense, I told great-aunt Giuliana dat Linda was tryin' to tell me somethin', got angry because I didn't hear her out, and it made her fall. I partly felt responsible for da mess anyway. Linda stopped cryin' and gave me a surprised look. Giuliana told me to excuse Linda's _stubbornness_, dat she wasn't a bad girl and dat she just didn't know _how_ to ask for help. She was always very busy, cleanin' da house (which included udher people's messes), workin' at da library, makin' sure everyt'ing is well in order. Organization was one of Linda's strong qualities, she was actually responsible for how da dinner table was set up and how da furniture in da house was arranged. Wow, was I impressed! But as orderly as Linda claimed to be, she struggled to keep order within _herself_. No wonder she was always moody!

"I will fetch a wet-eh rag," said Giuliana. "Bring Linda into the parlor so she can sit on the couch. She may be stubborn in letting you, but don't-eh let that stop you."

An irritated look appeared on Linda's face at her mother's recent comment. Still, it was enough to make her momentarily humble in allowin' me to bring her to da parlor. I told her to put her wing around my shoulders, and she obliged. I gently sat her on da couch and gave her a pillow to rest her foot. She paused to stare at da pillow for some time before takin' it from my hands. "You ... lied-eh _for_ me? Even when I ..."

"Don't worry about it," I told her gently. "Just take it easy."

"_Take eet easy_?" Linda mimicked, as if dhese words were new to her. "I ... don't know how ..."

_I_ had an idea. "Maybe you can start by takin off your glasses and untyin' your hair?"

I would've offered to do it for her, but I was afraid she would change her mind and not let me touch her. I watched as Linda heeded my words, unpinnin' her bun which made her red hair fall effortlessly to her shoulders. I was amazed at how much younger she looked with her hair down. Da removal of her spectacles made look even younger. Before she looked like some old school-teacher, now she looked like a _doll_!

"I'll ... leave you alone ... if you wish," I told her; my voice was breathy. Da chaos of everyt'ing dat happened stressed me out more dhan I realized. My heart pounded fast.

"No ... _stay_."

"What ...? You want me to _stay_?"

"_You_ look-eh as if you need to _take eet easy_."

Indeed I did. Linda gestured me to sit next to her. For a while, neither one of us said a word to each udher. I didn't know where to begin, I was too used to despisin' her. I assumed she felt da same way. Still, I had to start somewhere. "Giuliana says you're a librarian," I began. "Do ... you like it?"

"_Si_, I do," Linda nodded. "Eet's-eh _quiet_ and orderly. And-eh I can also read-eh my books."

"_Oh_?" I replied. "What books do you read?"

"Heestory and-eh geography books," she replied. "Sometimes-eh I try to find out more about-eh our culture."

"About bats?"

Linda nodded. "I try to find eef-eh there are other bats in the world besides-eh _me_."

Her lookin' for udher bats? She sounded as if she was lonely. "But you have your family," I pointed out. "Your mother, your aunts and uncles, and your cousins."

"I know ..." Linda began to frown. "I love them, but ... sometimes-eh I think they ignore me."

"Why's dat?"

"Well I ..." she began to stammer. It sounded like she didn't have an answer. "Did-eh my mother ever tell you about-eh my father?"

I shook my head, so Linda began to tell me her story. Alfonso Gaetano, Giuliana's husband, worked under da employment of da Sicilian mob alongside Grandma Maria's first husband, Lucio. Giuliana learned dis da hard way when she overheard him braggin' to his friends in da tavern about da life of some older lady dat he took. Linda was only four years old, so da only t'ing she knew of her father was what her mother told her. But since dhen, her mother had become very dependent on her daughter as a pillar of support; because of dis Linda had lost her childhood. Dis was da same time her obsession with organization and tidiness began. When she was old enough to know better, she insisted dat her dedication to her work was to_make it easy to find a weapon if necessary_. Dis was in case da Sicilian mob would ever track dhem down ... which in reality it was just a bunch of nonsense since dhey had already been livin' in Liverpool for some time. Still Linda was convinced in her mind dat what she was doin' was da right t'ing. And it made her oblivious as to what everyone around her was seein'. I had to somehow make her see what everyone else saw ... _without_provokin' her to her old bad habits again. She looked like a completely different woman now dat she had humbled herself a little. But how could I_keep_ her dat way?

"I see how it's difficult for you to relax," I replied. "Dat must be hard feelin' like you're doin' _all_ da work yourself."

Linda nodded her head, just before a fresh new set of tears poured from her eyes. She turned her face from me and wiped dhem with da back of her webbed hand. She was tryin' hard to act big about it, but I could see she was failin' to do so. Like da night when Anna Collins accepted _me_ as her adopted son, I recalled breakin' down da same way as Linda was doin' now. She was exhausted ... dis poor lady needed a _break_! And just in time! Great-aunt Giuliana returned with da wet rag she had promised.

"Now what-eh happened!?" Giuliana demanded to know upon seein' her only daughter in tears.

"I t'ink she needs her mother now," I told her. Giuliana seemed surprised to hear dis. I spared her da details of Linda's story (I was never too good with explainin' details anyway), but simply told her dat Linda was feelin' overworked because her own mother was given her more dhan she could handle. It was obvious dat great-aunt Giuliana was in charge of lookin' after da whole family, I knew it da moment I first met her da night I arrived. Da responsibilities needed to be delegated to da rest of da family, I had strongly suggested to her. Of course, Giuliana didn't favor my opinion and was almost convinced I was speakin' out of line (like great-uncle Giuseppe). But I felt she needed to hear it anyway and she knew dat nuthin' she could say or do would change my mind. My old idea of convincin' Linda to see what everyone else saw would have to wait. Without anudher word, I left da two ladies alone to dheir privacy. I noticed Linda lookin' back at me with surprise t'rough dhose tear-filled eyes as I began to walk away. I couldn't tell if it was a look of gratitude or somethin' else. I had hoped it was da first ...

Da evenin' was almost over. I had went upstairs to da guest bedroom I was stayin' in, I was already feelin exhausted. I was surprised, all I really did was a bunch of talkin' to my family and I felt as if I had been workin' overtime. I also felt dat a part of me was changin'. I was no longer da timid bat I was when I arrived. I was more ... _whole_. Was dat da right word? No ... I was growin' up. I was already an adult to begin with, but dis was da first time I finally started to _act_ like one. As I fell upon da mattress, da events of what I had done turned into a t'eatrical performance in my head. I helped Carolina to overcome her shyness, I now knew da truth behind Annabella's history in da British Navy, I had earned great-uncle Giuseppe's trust, I discovered Linda Pirone actually had a good side ... and I learned da secret of da song _Serafino_. With all dis knowledge acquired, I had felt a strong sense of fulfillment. I had a great family and I considered myself lucky to have found dhem. No udher experience could've been more rewardin'. I couldn't help but smile as I closed my eyes. And soon it would all be over ...

I found myself in dat old harbor again. Da same one from my dreams while I was in London. I saw da ghost of my father once again, lookin' just as proud and mature as he did dat night. I was afraid he would disappear again. But dis time he flew in my direction ... _fast_! Was he gonna crash into me!? I crossed my wings in front of my face, anticipatin' a collision. Dhen I felt da breeze created from da flappin' of his great wings. As I uncovered my face, da figure of Rudolfo Boitano stood a few inches from me.

"Finnius Andrew Holloway," he uttered my full name in a soft tone.

"_P-Papa_?" I spoke in small, childlike voice I hardly recognized as my own.

My father didn't say anudher word, instead he wrapped his great wings around me. Da touch of his wings felt slightly cool, like a spring breeze. Somehow, it felt refreshin'.

"You've answered my calling," he whispered in my ear. "And you've succeeded in providing happiness to my family, especially my mother. For that I am proud of you."

"I've ... made everyone happy?" I uttered in dat same childlike voice again. "How?"

"By listening to them," my father answered. "They've told you secrets they've kept bottled up since I passed away. Only _I_ knew their darkest secrets. Everyone looked up to me as their salvation."

"_Salvation_? From _what_?"

"From the oppression that bat-kind faces, of course!" my father responded with a hearty laugh. "They were able to gain some social standing and respect, rising from the poverty that we faced in Italy and to becoming a middle class family in England ... through _honest terms_."

By _honest_, my father obviously meant dat our family had risen to dheir current standin' _without_ gettin' in trouble with da law. Aldhough Grandma Maria's first husband provided her a decent livin', it was t'rough means of bloodshed t'anks to da Sicilian mob. But my father wasn't finished with his conversation yet.

"However, they still struggled with connecting to the world of mice. Linda had to fight to get her job as a librarian, so did uncle Giuseppe with his job. As I grew up into adulthood, I was taught that the only way to overcome oppression of any kind, was to share knowledge with the world. I had to figure out a way to turn their secrets into something that could help everyone, bat and rodent alike. The trick however, was to find a way to do so without bringing their reputation to ruin. I wanted to share this knowledge with you when you grew up, but ... my life was taken away."

I nodded, feelin' a hint of disgust. "I know ... dhose _priests_. Dhey took you away from us."

My father nodded. "Do you know why, Finnius?"

I was silent. I never t'ought about askin' _dat_ question. I just knew I felt disgusted because of da childhood I could've had if it had not been for dhose_priests_.

"Those priests didn't kill me for the sake of killing, son," my father began, noticin' da expression on my face. "There was a good reason for it. When I was on my way to work one evening, I saw those priests turn away some poor child begging for food ... another _mouse_. He had no home, no family, he was too weak to defend himself. I had overheard those priests say that he was 'cursed to wander the streets alone and hungry because he was a_stupid_.' They practically blamed him for something he had no power over. So ... I _intervened_."

"You _what_!?" Dis time, my own voice came back. Da voice I knew to be my own.

"I protected that boy from the bullying nature of those priests. I managed to scare them away with my presence, they were appalled at seeing a bat. As if they've never seen one before in their lives. Because your mother and I were struggling ourselves, I wasn't able to provide him much in the way of money. However, I took that boy with me and taught him how to fish. I was able to provide him food and a means to get his own food for the future. This was two weeks before you were born."

"You taught a kid how to fish?!"

"The life of a carpenter wasn't the only way I lived," said my father. "I taught my co-workers to fix things on their own, in case I couldn't be around one day. This wasn't easy to do because most of them didn't want to learn if it meant _more work_ for them. And like that young mouse, I taught them that one didn't have to be rich in order to live well. I would spend my leisure time creating fishing poles for them, so they could catch food to feed their children. And I taught them how to overcome sickness so they would be well ... and also how to read."

"_Really_!?" I knew my father was a great man ... but I never knew of all da great t'ings he did!

"Everyone around me began looking to me as a priest figure, and I never attended church! It would've allowed me to rise above the ranks to provide a better life for my wife and child. Those priests knew this ... And because of this, they feared they would lose their standing because of my actions. That was why I had kept the whereabouts of our home a secret, flying home only when they weren't paying attention to me. And I never told them, knowing to well how fast word of mouth travels. Your mother and I got into arguments about this; she warned me that the day I had intervened with those priests' actions toward that child would be the _death_ of me. She preferred staying behind closed doors where it would be _safer_. I tried to assure her not to worry because I kept my promise to keep both my wife and child protected from harm while providing a better future for them. And I've managed to do so for _four years_."

"So dhose priests killed you because you _helped_ people?!" I asked.

"Because in _their_ mind, mouse-kind should look only to _them_ for their hopes and salvation. A commoner playing this role meant they would be out of a job ... especially if that commoner is a _bat_, which they viewed as servants of the Devil. But somehow ... and I don't know how ... those priests found our home. Your mother's predictions became reality."

I scratched my head at all dis newfound information. "How could someone be threatened at somethin' dat _helps_ people?"

At dis, my father crossed his great wings and gave me a cock-eyed look. "Weren't you once a pirate yourself, Finnius? Have you forgotten that you felt threatened by Deniece's present at first?"

Now _dat_ comment stunned me! Because he was referrin' to dhose moments when I actually plotted to kill Niecy out fear of her discoverin' my past. "You know about _dat_!?"

My father laughed heartily. "As a spirit, I see many things I wasn't able to when I was alive, my son. That also includes see people's _thoughts_."

Boy, did I feel sheepish dat time. What had motivated dhose priests to kill my parents and almost kill me was da same t'ing dat would've motivated me to kill Niecy. _Ignorance_!

"That's what ignorance can do, my son. It can make us do things we would never imagine ourselves doing. And there are only two ways you can deal with it. You can either allow it to consume you to madness, you can overcome it through sharing knowledge with the world. You overcame ignorance when you chose to allow Father Richards to help you while you were in prison. You learned to take responsibility for your own actions when The Collins couple gave you countless chores to do, even though it wasn't easy for you. You came to Liverpool because you feared that ignorance would drive you mad if you never learned of our family's existence. And you overcame ignorance by listening to Linda's needs, even though you didn't like her."

It was no wonder I felt so fulfilled, even when I thought I was just doin' a lot of _talkin'_. Aldhough my father spoke in big words, I was able to understand my father's message. As with all da udher t'ings I've witnessed from bathin' with Annabella to Carlo's puppet show, I learned da true meaning of family. It wasn't just relatives by blood ... A person, be it bat or rodent, had to _create_ family. Because only with family can someone become strong and grow. One creature couldn't survive in dis world alone.

I watched as my father lifted his wings. "I must leave you, my son. You've acquired much wisdom in your journeys, but you've still a lot to learn. Soon, you will meet your mother's family, the O'Reillys. And they also possess secrets that you will need to learn."

My father and I embraced each udher for da last time. I would never see my father in my dreams again. I would miss him terribly, but I was able to watch him fly away with a sense of pride and respect. My father's spirit would always live on, as long as I remembered to keep it alive in my heart. And as long as I kept alive da memories of da experiences I had with da Boitano family, I would never feel alone again.

Dat evenin' had finally arrived. I had stayed with da Boitanos for a full week. I was to leave da Boitano household and be on my way to my next destination: Ireland. I didn't just focus on findin' information on da Boitanos when I was in dat library in London. I had also attempted to look up my mother's side of da family too. Dhere was a Seamus O'Reilly, a famous violinist and storyteller, a Fiona Fitzpatrick who was a seamstress like my mother, and a Fenris O'Reilly who was a seafarer like Annabella. I wondered what knowledge dhey had to share with me? Would dhey be suspicious of me like most of da Boitanos were dat first night? Each of da Boitano relatives embraced me and bade me farewell ... except Grandma Maria. She was to escort me to da train station and bid me farewell dhen. As we hitch a hansom dat led in dat direction, we were both silent. My grandmother looked da udher way, avoidin' my eyes. I guess she didn't want me to notice da sadness in her eyes. Did she t'ink she would never see her own grandson again? I could feel dat sayin' goodbye to each udher would not be an easy t'ing. When we had reached da train station, I still had a few minutes to spare before da next train would come and take me away. It was dhen dat Grandma Maria finally spoke.

"You've made me hopeful once again, _Fidelio_," my grandmother said. "Our family can live again, thanks-eh to _you_."

"I t'ink it's da reverse," I said in a whisper. "I came here lookin' for my family ... and I found it."

"There ees something I want to give you, _Fidelio_." I saw Grandma Maria pull a ball of purple yarn out of her purse. Da same exact t'ing I used to play with as a kid. "Your father liked-eh to play with the yarn a lot when he was leetle. Eet's nothing grand, but ... eet's the one memory I have of Rudolfo. I want to geeve-eh thees to you. Eet seems like purple ees your favorite-eh color."

Da ball of yarn may not have been anyt'ing grand, but it meant a lot to me. It would be my one reminder of my father's spirit in case I needed to be reminded. I lifted my eyes to her and gave her a tiny smile.

"You've been ... very kind to me. T'ank you ..."

We had stared at each udher in silence, broken only by da sound of da train. My grandmother drew me into a strong embrace. I heard her weepin', she didn't want me to go. It was like losin' her son all over again. I returned her strong embrace with one of my own, tellin' her dat I would visit her again someday. But I came close to weepin' myself. She had been da best grandmother I ever had. She was da mother I never had, I wished I could've taken her along with me. But it would've been unfair to force her to leave da Boitano household for my selfish needs.

Da doors of da train began to open. I picked up my suitcase and rushed aboard, hearin' only a phrase in Italian: "_Buona fortuna, caro mio_."

I sat alone in one of da back seats and watched da image of my grandmother drift further away. When it disappeared entirely, I played with dat ball of yarn.


End file.
